


Floodswept

by LouTheStarSpeaker



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouTheStarSpeaker/pseuds/LouTheStarSpeaker
Summary: When International Rescue gets an unusual request, Gordon offers to help. But when the situation turns life threatening, how will Gordon fare without his brothers and his Thunderbird?
Comments: 35
Kudos: 44





	1. Change in Priority

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from FF.Net, updates every other day.

It was a deathly fierce battle. Many of the King’s men were captured or killed, and his Queen was long dead. The enemy forces swarmed into his territory completely unchecked. The King’s last remaining men coiled around him, each ready to give his life for the crown. A cunning Black Knight saw a weakness in their defense and exploited it, viciously running his sword through a Bishop before turning his weapon toward the King.

“Check!” Gordon exclaimed, snatching the bishop off the board.

“Darn it, again? I really should’ve seen that coming.” Alan stared down at the chess pieces, searching for a weak point in Gordon’s strategy. He really _was_ losing spectacularly.

Gordon shook his head. “You’re only prolonging the inevitable, Alan.”

“Hey, everybody likes an underdog.”

“No offense, Alan. But ‘underdog’ is just another word for ‘loser’.” 

Alan opened his mouth to respond, but was thankfully saved from having to come up with a witty comeback when John’s hologram blinked to life above the table. 

Alan and Gordon stood up, staring expectantly at John, waiting for the familiar alarm to sound. But when John simply said “Hi, guys.” instead of “We have a situation.” their faces broke into grins.

“Hey, Johnny, how you been?” Gordon asked his big brother.

John smiled a greeting. “Kind of bored, actually. It’s pretty quiet out there today, so I thought I’d call in and see what you guys are up to.”

Alan gasped in mock shock. “Wait, so you’re telling me that you don’t have to recalibrate your semi-axle quadrilateral sub-systems? Or integrate your fractalization code into the baritone info-command-break?”

John raised an eyebrow. “Alan, you’re just saying words.”

“Missing the point, John.” Gordon said in a singsong voice. 

Alan crossed his arms. “Besides missions, we haven’t heard from you in two days, John.” His scolding tone reminded Gordon very much of Scott, but it was to be expected. Alan knew better than most how space could detach a person from the world below, and he did his best to keep John in check. 

John sighed. “I know, you’re right. I need to call more. I just had a lot of upgrades to install. I’ve been testing how our scanners perform in relation to different sediments. I thought Brains and I had designed them to take accurate readings despite almost any geological composition on Earth, but, obviously the Trinity mission proved that’s not-” 

Gordon clicked his tongue. “No excuses, Johnny boy. You can’t be working on your sediment scanner thingie _all_ the time. Imagine what Scott and Virgil would say.”

The wall on the far side of the room slid open and Virgil and Scott stepped out of the hidden passenger elevator. 

John grinned at the timing. “Speak of the devil. Hey, Scott. Hi, Virge.”

“John!” The two brothers said in unison.

“Why didn’t you two tell us John was calling?” Virgil asked Alan and Gordon.

Scott ruffled Alan’s hair. “Yeah, trying to keep him for yourselves, are you?”

Smiling, Alan swatted Scott’s hand away. “You only had a few repairs to do, I knew you’d be up here soon. Y’know, eventually.” 

“Sure, but who knows if John would even still be on the line?” Virgil asked with a pointed look at John. 

John’s smile turned apologetic. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry I’ve been a little out of touch recently.” 

“‘Out of touch’?” Scott repeated. “Honestly, John, apart from official business, we haven't heard from you in _two_ days.”

“And don’t say you’ve been busy.” Virgil said, picking up the argument. “You can’t possibly be working every moment of every day. No excuses, John.” 

From behind them, Alan and Gordon glanced at each other, then simultaneously broke into laughter. Scott raised an eyebrow. “So, what about this is funny?” 

Alan morphed his laugh into a cough while Gordon cleared his throat, quickly trying to school his face, but ending up with a grin regardless. “It’s just that’s exactly what we told him. ‘No excuses’ and everything.” 

“He’s right, it was almost word for word, and there is absolutely no need for me to sit through the same lecture twice…” John frowned as he trailed off, his holographic form looking down at a control panel outside of the others’ view.

A worry line creased Scott’s brow. “John? What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing wrong, really. Just strange. EOS just picked up a call, it’s originating from somewhere in Trinity.”

“The town we helped out with the mudslide at that mine the other day? Is it another emergency?” Virgil asked.

“Not from what I can tell. They used the normal communications line, not the emergency channel.”

Alan shrugged. “Maybe they just called to say ‘thanks.’” 

“Whatever the reason, now I’m curious.” Scott said. “Transfer the call over, John.” 

A few swipes on his screen and holograms of EOS and a woman appeared next to John’s. The woman had black hair and tanned skin and seemed to be agitated, obviously having argued with the AI.

“Thank you, EOS, we’ll take it from here.” John said quickly, before EOS could say something to upset the woman even more. 

EOS sighed, red lights flashing. “If you say so, John.” Her hologram blinked out of sight. John would have to have another talk with her about people skills.

Gordon frowned thoughtfully at the woman’s hologram. He was sure he’d seen her before.

“You’ve reached International Rescue.” Scott said “Are you reporting an emergency?”

“I’m not sure if you would consider it an emergency, but I couldn’t think of anyone else who might be willing to help.”

“Help with what, miss?” Virgil asked.

“Perhaps I should begin again. My name is Dr. Avira Burrell-”

Gordon snapped his fingers, suddenly remembering. “Of _course_ \- Dr. Burrell! You’re the ecologist that called in that wildfire in Nevada a couple months back.” Expressions of recollection flashed across his brother’s faces and a silent “ _oooooh_ ” penetrated the room.

“Yes, that’s right.” Dr. Burrell said, a bit surprised they’d remembered her. “I’m a member of the Wildlife Research and Protection Guild. I’m on assignment here in Trinity and my team and I discovered a logjam in the river holding back a dangerous amount of water collected from last week’s storm and snowmelt from the mountains. When the dam breaks it will flood the entire valley. But if we can dig out channels to divert the water flow we can greatly decrease the impact of the floods.”

Scott frowned. “Dr. Burrell, I thought you said this wasn’t an emergency.”

“There aren’t any residences in the danger zone,” John told them, swiping his hand and pulling up satellite images of Trinity. “The town’s built on high ground to avoid potential flooding from the mountains when the snow melts.”

“Yes, this is true.” Dr. Burrell said, speaking a bit faster now, as if she was worried they would deny her request now that they understood there were no human lives at risk. “But a flood of this scale would decimate Trinity’s ecosystem. It could take years to recover.”

“What if you rent equipment from the Connelly Mine?” Virgil asked, remembering the heavy duty equipment from the mudslide rescue.

“I’ve already asked. Connelly denied me out flat. He doesn’t want anything to delay the reopening of his mine.” 

“Could you bring in equipment from somewhere else?” Gordon suggested.

“No, the WRPG doesn’t have the funds. We’ve asked for permission to use some of the town’s construction equipment, but since Trinity doesn’t have any indigenous or endangered species they didn’t want to take away from the storm rebuilding efforts. We thought you could help us.” Dr. Burrell finished, an unsure expression on her face.

Scott sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Dr Burrell, you have to know that this is a very… unusual request.”

“Scott-” Gordon began to protest, but his brother cut him off with a look. 

“Send over any information you have on the situation, I’ll talk it over with my team and decide whether or not to deploy.” Scott finished. Dr. Burrell thanked him, saying she would send the rest of the details and ended the call.

Gordon sighed. “Don’t say it, Scott.”

“Our priority is _people_ , Gordon.”

Gordon threw his hands in the air. “I ask for one thing.”

“I’m not happy about it either, Gordon, but we can’t send Thunderbird 2 halfway around the world to dig trenches when she could be needed somewhere else.”

“If we’re called somewhere else we can just redeploy.” Gordon argued. “For all it’s resemblance to a giant green bathtub, Thunderbird 2 is _still_ one of the fastest planes in the world.”

“That is true.” Virgil mumbled, frowning at the ground, deep in thought. His head suddenly snapped up, eyes glaring at Gordon. “About being one of the fastest planes in the world, _not_ the bathtub thing.” 

Alan chuckled. “I was about to say, Virge. I knew you weren’t just gonna let that slide.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but returned to his original point. “There’s still the issue with fuel though, and equipment. If we’re called out to, say, a fire and we have a pod full of bulldozing equipment we’re not going to be able to do much of anything anyway.” 

Gordon snapped his fingers. “What if I just take a Pod? We have half a dozen of the things anyway and I won’t even need to take Two, I could just fly there in Tracy 1.”

“But what if we need Thunderbird _4_ , Gordon?” John spoke up. “You’re our only aquanaut.”

Gordon crossed his arms, not budging. “Alan’s been cross-training on Thunderbird 4 for a while now. If it’s needed, he can pilot it.” While Gordon definitely had more of an instinct for underwater rescues, as well as years of experience on Alan, the fact of the matter was that TB4’s controls and responses weren’t all that dissimilar from his brother’s rocket. Alan would be able to cover for Gordon, and he was always just a phone call away if his brothers needed his advice.

Alan blinked, astonished at his brother’s willingness to give over his prized ‘Bird. “Woah. You guys heard that too, right? I’m not hallucinating?” His brothers had always known that Gordon was a passionate advocate for wildlife protection, but he was really serious to give free rein of his Thunderbird over to his brothers, to _Alan_ no less.

Despite knowing that his brothers often thought of him as the prankster, Gordon _could_ be serious when the situation called for it. “Look guys, Dr. Burrell wasn’t exaggerating. The floods really _will_ destroy the entire ecosystem for years to come if we don’t help out, and we’ve got the means so why shouldn’t we?”

Scott sighed, running his hand through his hair again, and Gordon knew his brother had caved. “Alright, you can go.” Scott said. “But I don’t feel too good about sending you alone though. You won’t have any backup, or a Thunderbird.”

Gordon grinned, waving off his concerns. “Don’t worry about it, Scotty. I _am_ a trained professional you know.”

“Besides, he won’t be _completely_ alone.” John said. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Scott sighed, “Alright, I know when I’m beaten. John, go ahead and contact Dr. Burrell.”

Dr. Burrell’s hologram blinked to life again, an anxious expression on her face.

Gordon stepped forward. “Dr. Burrell? We’ll be there in an hour.”

~ _TB_ ~

Persi Renari ran up to where her friends were standing, adjusting the hearing aid in her right ear as she went. She was on a camping trip with her brother Nico, their friends, Mae and JT, and JT’s father, Mr. Trainer. 

“Oh, here she comes now.” Persi heard Mae say as she spotted her.

“Sorry, I’m so late.” Persi said, grinning sheepishly as she walked up to them. “I overslept.”

“It’s fine, you’re still not even the last one here.” Nico said shrugging from where he’d taken a seat on the ground.

“That’s right,” Mae said, sighing. “We’re still waiting on JT and Mr. Trainer, they went to get snacks almost fifteen minutes ago. We’ll be lucky if the sun’s still up by the time we get on the trail.” 

Persi waved off the exaggeration. “Here they come right now, and look, hours of daylight left.”

“Sorry we took so long, the lines were crazy. I think half the people here come for the snack bar and not the hiking trails.” JT said as he and his dad passed around water bottles and bags of trail mix. 

Nico stood up sweeping dirt off his knees and shrugging his shoulder. “Well it _is_ a ‘luxury campground.’” 

“Hey, that’s a good thing, gang.” Mr. Trainer said. “More forest for us. But we better move out. It’s a long hike down into the valley, and I’d rather not have to cross back over the river in the dark.”


	2. Connelly

“Of course, I will make sure Mr. Connelly gets your file. Yes, I understand the importance.” Melanie said politely into the phone even as she was rolling her eyes at the redundancy.  _ Every _ file was important. 

Ending the conversation as quickly as possible and hanging up the phone, Melanie took the fresh stack of papers from the fax machine and placed them in a manila folder to take to her boss, high heels clicking quickly as she went. Oh, the glamorous life of a secretary-assistant.

She knocked lightly on the large oak door of Mr. Connelly's office. It was silent for a few seconds, and Melanie could almost hear her boss trying to gauge her importance through the door. Finally he spoke in his deep, clipped tone. “Yes, Melanie, come in.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir.” Melanie said as she entered the large office. “I understand that you’re busy.” Mr. Connelly was in the process of orchestrating a merger, but it was proving to be problematic as one of his mines, his largest one at that, was currently out of operation due to a mudslide a few days before.

Mr. Connelly looked up at her from his computer screen, unsmiling. “Yes, I am Melanie. So, please, explain what it is you need so I can get back to work.” Straight to the point as always. At least he was consistent. 

Melanie quickly made her way forward, placing the file on his desk. “A representative from the town council just called, it’s concerning Firesong, your campgrounds in Trinity. Apparently, there are risks of flash flooding and they need you to close the trails inside the flood zone.”

Mr. Connelly fixed Melanie with an unimpressed stare as he finished examining the file. “The trails within the flooding zone are already closed, as they are every year at this time.” He said, obviously irritated at this waste of time.

Melanie flushed, her temper flaring at her boss’ obvious assumption of her incompetence. She pulled a paper to the top of the stack and showed it to him. “No, sir. The flood zone is wider this year due to a bad storm, and you need to close an additional trail.” She explained, showing him where the trail crossed briefly into the danger zone.

Mr. Connelly sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Melanie, what are the chances of a hiker being in this  _ exact _ spot at the  _ exact _ moment a flood hits?” He paused as if to give her chance to answer, but she knew better than to speak. “Next to nothing. There is no need to close this trail. With the mine out of commision I have much bigger problems than this. Now, if that is all, please excuse me, I must get back to work.” He said turning back to his computer screen as if Melanie had already exited the room.

Melanie nodded stiffly before she turned and left, fuming internally at being dismissed so rudely. Her heels clicked a bit faster than usual as she made her way back to her desk, the anger making her forget the way her stomach had turned when Mr. Connally had refused to close the trail.

~ _ TB _ ~

Gordon was eternally grateful that John had remembered to tell Dr. Burrell to bring a pickup truck to stow all the equipment Scott had forced him to bring, because Gordon would  _ not  _ have wanted to make this trip twice to pick up the rest of his stuff. 

You’d think driving around on literally every terrain on the planet would prepare him for all the many,  _ many _ , bumps and holes one finds on a forest path. But apparently the excellence with which Brains and Virgil engineered the Pods had spoiled him, making him blissfully blind to the discomfort of riding in a civilian vehicle on anything except asphalt. Until now, that is.

“So, what brought you to Trinity anyway?” Gordon asked raising his voice over the rattling of the trailer behind them. “You said there weren't any rare species in the area.”

“We’ve actually been here before, when we initially started studying the effects long-term mining has on an ecosystem.” Dr. Burrell said, glancing over at Gordon then back at the windshield. “We found impacts of pollution like we expected, but when we returned this time also found evidence of sinkholes from the collapse of stripped mine tunnels.”

Gordon frowned. “Aren’t there laws to prohibit that sort of thing? Like for public safety?”

“Of course. But all the sinkholes are directly over the mine, on company owned property. Civilians aren’t supposed to go over there. The animals do though. We’ve found more than one dead deer at the bottom of a sinkhole.”

The truck rattled as it drove over a particularly deep pothole, and Gordon grasped at the handle above the door. “Why not go to the town council or mayor or someone? If the holes are causing  _ deaths _ , why wouldn’t they make Connelly fill the tunnels?”

Dr. Burrell clutched the steering wheel in a tight grip. “Connelly would take it to court, and his pockets are lined. Until the sinkholes actually injure a  _ person _ , the town’s not confident they can win a lawsuit.”

“But with all the hikers and tourists in this town that’s only a matter of time.” Gordon said grimly.

Dr. Burrell nodded. “But all of that’s taken a back seat for now, if we don’t divert this flood water, they’ll be nothing left here to fight for.

The truck slowed to a stop as they arrived at the river bank, Gordon could see from the truck how quickly the river was swelling. 

There were three people already there, members of Dr. Burrell’s research team Gordon assumed. There was Dale, their logistics expert, a tall, built man with dark skin, a bald head, and a beard; Zack, an enthusiastic kid who looked fresh out of high school, who worked their communications equipment; and Olie, a red-headed animal tracker with an Australian accent.

Gordon shook hands with each of them by way of greeting, then crouched down on the edge of the bank, observing the logjam with a critical eye. This was not going to hold for very long at all. Gordon estimated maybe three hours tops.

“Is this area clear?” Gordon asked over his shoulder.

“Yep.” Olie said. “Mayor closed up all the trails in the flood zone when we found the jam.”

Gordon stood, wiping the dirt off his hands. “Good, then we can get started. Let’s unload this stuff. Quickly.” Gordon added, eyeing the river again as he jumped into the trailer.

“What is all this anyway?” Zack asked as he hopped into the trailer with Gordon, who was passing a barrel down to Olie.

“Nanocrete, in case we need to seal the dam to buy us some time to get out of the flood zone.”

“And those?” Dr. Burrell pointed to a crate in Zack’s hands with very obvious warning sign. Explosives.

Zack’s eyes widened as he realized what he was holding and he nearly dropped the crate before passing it quickly off to Dale.

“To blow the dam. So we can minimize the flood buildup.” Gordon said,

Zack backed away from the crates, very obviously choosing to only unload the barrels, muttering something about the irony of “minimizing  _ damage _ with  _ explosives _ .”

As they finished unloading the equipment, Gordon pulled on his helmet and attached his rebreather, taking a set of explosives.

“You planning on going for a swim, mate?” Olie asked with an eyebrow raised, nodding towards the rushing river.

Gordon grinned, attaching a tether to his belt and tossing the slack to Zack. “Always.” He stepped backwards of the bank plunging into the river. 

The tether jerked forward out of Zack’s hands, and for a terrifying split second he thought that Gordon’s life had literally slipped through his fingers. Then Zack turned around to see the other end was secured to a tree. 

Zack grinned, turning to the river and watching Gordon carve expertly through the water as he set the explosives on the dam. He could appreciate a good joke.

“Gah, that’s  _ cold _ .” Gordon said as he resurfaced, shivering some as Dale grabbed his hand and hauled him up over the bank. Gordon zipped up a jacket over his wetsuit and shoved his hands in the pockets. “Alright, that’s done. Time to head out.”

Dr. Burrell sent Zack back up to their camp, which was a little ways upstream and up a hill, just out of the flood zone. If they needed more time, it would be his job to seal the dam.

The rest of them Gordon, Dale, Olie, and the doctor, piled into the pickup and moved out to the first dig site, a lightly wooded area just off the bank of the river a couple miles downstream. 

~ _ TB _ ~

“That is  _ not _ a normal bulldozer.” Dale said, staring at the machine and shaking his head as Gordon opened the trailer. “No kidding. You should see it fly.” 

Dale’s eyes widened and Olie laughed, clapping Dale on the back “He’s pulling your leg, mate.” Olie’s laughter died down when Gordon just smiled, a glint in his eye as he hopped into the Pod.

The work was slow going. To dig the trench, Gordon needed to have relatively clear ground. That meant that Olie, Dale, and Dr. Burrell were taking chainsaws to the trees to clear a path. Every once in a while, when Gordon dug as far as he could, he hopped out of the Pod to help clear the ground.

It was sweaty work, even with the cool breezes, and as they finished up, Gordon was glad to hear the trench on the other side of the river would run along a trail, and they could skip the lumberjack logging.

Gordon was helping load the chainsaws into the back of the pickup when he paused, looking over at a group of trees off to the side, then at Dale. “Do you hear that?” 

Dale placed a saw into the truck, and was about to say no, when he paused as well. “Voices?”

Gordon’s stomach fell, instincts telling him what he hadn’t yet confirmed.

Two people, a young man and a young woman, walked out of the bushes, staring wide-eyed at the fresh trench and felled trees. “What’s going on?” The young man asked.

Dr. Burrell shut the tailgate and walked up to them, an urgency in her steps. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, we know.” The woman said sheepishly, almost embarrassed. “We followed a deer a little ways off the trail and couldn’t find our way back.”

“No.” Gordon said shaking his head. “You’re  _ really _ not supposed to be here. All the trails in this area are supposed to be closed. You’re in a flood zone.”

“No, but, they told us- they said that this trail was safe.” The man said, looking to the woman for confirmation. 

She nodded, pulling a map out of her pocket. “This is where we were.” She traced her finger along a trail outside of a red lined area.

Olie pulled out his own map, finding the same trail and showing the two hikers where it crossed into an extended red zone. 

The woman’s eyes widened. “That can’t be right, they didn’t close the trail.” 

There were people inside the flood zone.


	3. In 45 Seconds

Dale slid behind the wheel and hit the gas, tearing through the woods toward their research site, the closest safe zone. 

Dr. Burrell pulled out her radio, contacting Zack to tell him to hold the dam, and from the front seat, Gordon placed a hand to his ear making a call of his own. Please let John’s upgrades work. 

“John, can you hear me?”

It was staticky for a moment before his big brother’s voice rang through his ear. “Loud and clear, Gordon. My ‘sediment scanner thingie’ is working pretty well, isn’t it?” 

When Gordon didn’t laugh or make a joking remark, John knew something was wrong.

“We’ve got a situation down here, John. There are civilians in the flood zone. I need locations on everyone who used- what trail?” Gordon turned in his seat, asking the hikers.

“Creststone.” The young man spoke up. “In Fireside.”

“Crestone trail in Fireside.” Gordon repeated into his comlink.

“FAB. Accessing now.” John said. Gordon decided not to ask if his brother’s “access” was of the legal variety or not. 

“I’ll check the other trails in the area as well, if this trail isn’t closed who knows if the others are..” John said. 

“Good idea, John.” Gordon hadn’t even thought to check if the trails were  _ actually _ closed, it hadn’t even entered is mind that people would fail to do something as fundamentally right as close down a flood zone. He hadn’t considered that there might be other trails that weren’t closed. 

Gordon jerked forward as the truck skidded to stop, having reached their destination. The research site was situated in a large clearing, with four or five canvas tents standing in a half circle. The hill they were on directly overlooked the dam, and walking up the footpath was Zack, shivering and soaking wet.

“Dam’s sealed!” He called out, breaking into a jog. “Don’t know how long it’ll hold though.”

“Probably give us another hour, tops.” Gordon said, then turned his mouth up in a half smile. “Did you fall in the river?”

Zack gave a breathless laugh, his jaw chattering. “Just the shallows. Slipped on the bank.” 

Gordon shook his head. Running on a riverbank; same mistake Alan had made countless times on his first few water rescues. 

Gordon pulled a jacket out of one of the equipment packs he’d stashed in the truck and handed it over to Zack, who took it gratefully, nodding his thanks. 

“Woah, dude, is this thing heated?” Zack asked with happy surprise, zipping it up to his neck and shoving his hands into the pockets as Gordon had done before.

Gordon shrugged. “One of the perks of having a job that consistently puts you in hypothermic conditions.” 

The two hikers looked at Zack with worried expressions. “Is it safe to be this close to the river?”

“Don’t worry, we’re upstream from the flood.” Gordon said. “It’s perfectly safe.”

A beeping sound pulled Gordon’s attention away. He tapped a finger to his sash and John’s hologram appeared floating in front of him.

Gordon tried not read too much into his brother’s grim expression. “What’ve you got for me, John?”

“It’s nothing good. The Creststone trail is the only one still open in the area, but, Gordon, there are a lot of people out there. Apparently, this trail is one of the most popular in the area. That’s why it wasn’t shut down.”

Gordon’s eyes sparked angrily. “Are you kidding me?” His voice dangerously low. “There are people trapped out there, with no idea what’s coming, because some greedy money grubber decided he’d rather have a few extra bucks in his pocket then close down a trail?”

John sighed, wondering if he should tell Gordon this next part. But decided that his brother needed the facts. “Not ‘some money grubber.’ Connelly. He owns the campgrounds.”

Gordon’s voice grew cold. “ _ Connelly _ .” He remembered the man. His clipped tone and “mightier than thou” attitude. The facade of concern he had for his trapped miners paled to white in comparison to his obvious distress over the welfare of his mine. He was everything Gordon’s father had warned him not to become in the midst of his own privileges. 

But even as Gordon’s anger flared up, he blew out a sigh and stomped it out. People needed him. 

“Any more bad news, Johnny?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” John continued, watching the look in his brother’s eye. “I’ve alerted local Search and Rescue, but it’s a small town and they only have one helicopter. EOS calculated it, there is no way they’ll get to everyone in time.”

“Call in Scott.”

“Already have, Virgil too. Scott’s ETA is just under forty minutes, Virgil’s is about an hour. I’ve reached out to other SAR units, but they’ll take longer than the both of them.” 

“That’s cutting it way too close, John.” Gordon said, remembering the  _ maybe _ hour they had before the dam gave out. “There has to be something else we can do.”

“I didn’t say there wasn’t, but it’s kind of a long shot. I’ve triangulated the locations of the hikers by pinpointing the signals emanating from the radios they’re carrying. But with all the interference, all I could get were approximations. The hikers can be anywhere within a quarter mile radius.”

Gordon frowned. “I thought you said your scanner thing was working, John.”

“Work in  _ progress _ , Gordon. I’m still trying to find a way to sift through the interference.” John said, resisting an eye roll. “But that’s not the point. If you could get out there, locate some of the hikers and give the SAR guys  _ exact _ locations instead of estimates…”

“We might be able to save everyone after all.” Gordon finished. “I’m already on it, John.”

John held up a hand to stop Gordon from hanging up. “One hitch though, Gords. What are you gonna drive?” 

Gordon grinned. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got an idea.” 

Hanging up his holocom, Gordon turned around to the band of researchers behind him. They’d been so quiet he’d almost forgotten they were there. 

Dr. Burrell stepped forward. “How can we help?”

A sheepish smile grew on Gordon’s face. “I need to borrow your truck.”

~ _ TB _ ~

The rusted out pick-up was not by any means a Thunderbird, but it was still better than riding around in a bulldozer. Still, a pick up truck didn’t exactly scream “I’m a member of the most elite organization of emergency responders in the world.” Which might explain why Gordon was having such a difficult time making people believe him.

“You’re not listening to me.” Gordon told the two teenage boys, his patience wearing thin. “Your lives are in danger. In half an hour, this entire area will be flooded.”

“Yeah. Sure, dude. We’re not just hopping into the back of some random guy’s truck.”

Gordon refrained from rolling his eyes and spoke slowly and deliberately, as if explaining something to a small child. “I’m not just ‘some guy’. I’m an International Rescue operative and I am  _ trying _ to save your lives.”

One of the kids sucked his teeth. “Like we’re gonna believe  _ that _ , bro. We’re not idiots. If you’re International Rescue, then where’s your Thunderbird?” He asked for the  _ umpteenth  _ time. 

Gordon let his eyes close briefly, inwardly thanking Alan for never being anywhere  _ close _ to this level of obnoxious. He was seriously beginning to consider knocking them both out with a sedative and dragging them into the truck.

“Exactly, man.” The kid’s friend spoke up. “Kidnappings happen everyday, dude. We’re outta here.”

This time Gordon did roll his eyes. Did they  _ honestly _ think kidnappers walked around in  _ wetsuits _ all day? 

Glancing back over at the truck, Gordon cringed at the uncomfortable expressions of the other hikers he’d already picked up as they watched the two teens walk away.

Ah, this was embarrassing.

Gordon tapped a finger to his sash. “Hey, Johnny, I could use a little help here.” He muttered from between his teeth.

“Already on it, little brother. Search and Rescue is approaching your location now.”

A moment later the sound of helicopter blades sliced through the forest, and the strong gusts whipping up dust and leaves were enough to make the two teens hesitate. And when an SAR operative dropped down through the canopy on a zipline, they stopped in their tracks.

“Duuude, that was  _ dope _ .”

Thankfully, after Search and Rescue's little demonstration, the two boys agreed to be transported and the rest of Gordon's evacuees were loaded into the copter without incident. 

Though Gordon did notice the SAR guy glance over at the pick-up with an amused expression. 

Gordon slid into the seat of the truck, turning the key in the ignition and listened to the truck sputter to life. It was a sharp contrast to the sounds of the powerful rotors, growing more and more distant as it made its way to the checkpoint to drop off it's passengers.

Gordon was used to people trusting him with their lives on a daily basis, who knew they were so cynical on the day to day? All of this would just be so much easier with a Thunderbird. Not to mention faster. 

Scott was still about ten minutes away. Enough time to track down another group of hikers. 

Gordon steered the truck to the next closest blip on his map. He pressed down on the accelerator, realising with a worried frown that his next set of coordinates were moving dangerously close to the swollen river. They weren’t planning to try and cross it were they?

Suddenly, there was a long beep in Gordon’s ear, then John was speaking, not even waiting for him to pick up.

“Gordon, your timetable’s been moved up. The dam is going.”

Gordon almost swerved off the road. “ _ Now _ ? I thought had thirty minutes!”

“Well, now you’ve got thirty seconds. A tree fell into the river and it’s going to crash into the dam.”

His first instinct was to turn around, find somewhere high to wait out the flood. But then Gordon thought about that little blip on his map, the people who had no idea what was coming. 

His foot slammed down on the gas and a small, insistent voice in the back of his head told him he would never make it. Gordon couldn’t tell if it was being pessimistic or rational. Was it possible he wouldn’t make it? Was it even possible he could?

But John didn’t offer him the statistics. Didn’t say that the numbers were not in his favor. Didn’t tell him to get to high ground or climb a tree. John was smart enough not to bother with instructions Gordon would ignore, not when he knew that his brother would take that sliver of a chance at life over certain death any day of the week.

But the voice of John’s silence said that he wasn’t as hopeful.

Gordon caught glimpses of the water between clumps of foliage as the forest began to thin. The trees were lost in Gordon’s peripheral, falling away unnoticed as his attention remained wholly focused on the river.

There was no charm in Gordon’s eyes as there so often was when watching the water. He knew a killer when he saw one.

Gordon’s grip on the wheel turned his knuckles white as EOS began counting down the seconds, her voice was like an explosion in the pressured silence, loud and sudden before fading into the background.

Gordon was driving alongside the river now, and a little ways up ahead he could see the hikers crossing over to the opposite bank on a little footbridge. 

They were on the wrong side of the river. Gordon had only been able to dig a trench on  _ this  _ side, the flooding on the other side would be much  _ much _ worse. 

The truck sped up the bank, mud flying from under the tires as Gordon blew the horn, the blaring sound catching the hikers attention.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Gordon registered EOS’ finishing her countdown.  _ Five… Four… Three… Two… One. _

There was no loud crash or deafening rush of water. Most people this far downstream wouldn’t know the flood was coming, but Gordon knew the water, and he could have sworn that the river quivered, just for a moment. 

John’s voice was back in his ear. “Forty-five seconds before the flood hits, Gordon.”

Another countdown. 

Gordon lurched forward in his seat as he slammed on the breaks, and he was out of the truck before it was even fully stopped. 

Running up to the edge of the river, Gordon shouted across, waving his hand in the air. “Hey! You need to come back!” 

The hikers shrunk back, and seemed ready to turn around and disappear into the forest. Realising how crazy it must seem to be yelled at across a river by a guy who just sped up in a pickup truck, Gordon forced himself to appear more composed. 

**Thirty seconds.**

His stride was quick, but he didn’t run as he made his way to the footbridge. Gordon rose his voice over the river, careful to filter out any frantic tones. “I’m with International Rescue,” He said, pointing to the IR symbol on his sash. “You’re in danger!”

The hikers were directly across from him on the other side of the bridge, and Gordon’s heart clenched when he realised that four of the five faces staring back at him were children, maybe twelve or thirteen years old. 

The man standing in front of them wore a hesitant expression, there was a second that lasted far too long when Gordon thought he would turn away from him, but then he ushered the kids onto the bridge.

**Twenty seconds.**

Gordon ran forward to meet them, dodging the driftwood that the river threw at his feet. He could hear the water roaring now.

“Come on, move!” He shouted, pushing them ahead of him and bringing up the rear. “Climb the tree, hurry!

**Ten seconds.**

The two kids in the front reached land, sprinting across the stretch of empty ground before hauling themselves into the closest tree, the other close behind them. They were going to make it.

But the river threw them one last curveball.

A wave launched a branch out of the river, aimed right at Gordon’s feet. It caught between his ankles and threw his balance. He could feel himself falling, the sound of rushing water growing louder in his ear. 

There was no railing. 

Then a face filled his vision, a determined one. The girl who’d been running ahead of him. She reached out a hand and caught his own.

_ No. _

His weight jerked her over the edge, pulling them both into waves. The cold was a shock to their skin and the current yanked them away from shore faster than Gordon could react.

There was suddenly so much noise in his ears as Gordon struggled to hold onto the girl and keep their heads up. 

John was shouting at him through the comms. Gordon couldn’t remember the last time he raised his voice, John never yelled. But Gordon couldn't hear any of what he said over the roaring, screaming water.

**Zero.**

The flood hit him like a concrete wall, slamming into his body and sending him under. It was strangely quiet underwater, a distorted kind of silence, a panicked kind of peace. 

Gordon kicked his legs furiously, lungs burning and heart pounding. The cold seemed to seep into Gordon’s bones, making his limbs heavy and his skin numb. His head finally broke through the surface, and gasped in a desperate breath. “Loud” didn’t even begin to describe sounds, it was like being inside a thunderclap. 

Gordon struggled to keep the girl above the waves, her body was limp in his arms and he prayed she wasn’t dead. He tried with a futile effort to swim to shore, but he was no match for the floodwaters, and the currents tossed him around like a leaf in a storm. 

A piece of debris from the footbridge slammed hard into his chest and he gasped out in pain, swallowing a mouthful water as a wave washed over his head.

The water rushed into his ears again, swallowing the sound.

_ Kick your legs. _ He did without really knowing why, he felt sluggish and far away.

_ Keep your head up. _ Why? It was so quiet underwater.  _ Keep your head up! _

The instinct took over his body and his head broke the surface. 

Noise rushed in. His lungs gasped in painful breaths. His limbs moved like wood.

Another piece of debris rushed up the river, striking his back this time, and eliciting a choked scream from Gordon as a spasm of pain shot up his spine. His vision blurred and tunneled to a pinpoint, then went completely dark. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the pickup truck, tumbling down the river and headed right at him.

~ _ TB _ ~ 

John’s face blanched as he stared at his holo-display, watching the flood sweep away the yellow dot that represented his brother’s life.

John’s eyes skimmed Gordon’s vitals, numbers that were so much more than numbers. Fear clenched his stomach as he took note of the erratic breathing pattern and racing heartbeat, and Gordon’s temperature, which was rapidly dropping to a dangerous level.

And John was too far away to do anything about it except stare at the stupid numbers.

He called someone who was closer. “Scott?” 

His brother picked up immediately. “I know, John. I’m two minutes out.” Scott’s words came out quick and decided, but John could hear the slight strain in his voice that gave away his brother’s fight to keep down his panic. 

It occurred to John that though Scott was thousands of miles closer, he was still too far away too, and likely blaming himself. 

Neither of them had to tell the other just how much could happen in two minutes.

“ _ John! _ ” 

EOS’ shout tore him from his thoughts and he turned sharply to face her. John had never heard her sound so scared before, but he never got the chance to ask her what was wrong. That became abundantly clear. 

A long, thin, shrill sound cut through the air like a cold metal blade, sending shivers up John’s spine. A holoscreen appeared in front of him, yellow faded into glaring red. Where peaks and valleys should have been, a single line stretched across the display.

Gordon was flatlining.


	4. He Has to Be

The high, sharp sound made Scott go stock-still in his seat, his hands gripping the controls of Thunderbird 1 in a white-knuckled grip. The long beep carried on for three hour-long seconds before ending suddenly with a decisive click. 

The heart monitor that should have displayed Gordon’s read-outs was blank, there was no rhythm, no flatline, just an empty screen. 

Scott slammed on the comm, his hands stiff with a fear that he struggled to keep out of his voice. “John? What just happened?”

“I-I’m not sure.” John looked stunned and dazed, eyes wide and face pale. Scott doubted he looked much different. 

But John pulled himself together quickly, blinking once and shaking his head, seeming to shove away the shock and snap into action. 

“The interference is messing with our equipment again.” He told Scott, hands swiping at screens his brother couldn’t see. “It’s possible that his vital monitors were scrambled and then shut out completely when he entered a dead-zone.”

Scott flinched at his brother’s wording. “But…” He began slowly, his gaze landing on the white-capped river flying by below him. “It  _ is  _ possible that the readings were…accurate before they cut out, isn’t it John?” 

John wanted to lie to his brother, and Scott wished he would. But he didn’t. “Yes. It is.”

Scott swallowed thickly.  _ If he'd been two minutes earlier.  _ “Understood. Approaching Gordon’s last confirmed location.”

“Good luck, Scott.”

Thunderbird 1 swooped in as low as she could without clipping the treetops and her pilot searched through the glass for a glimpse of blue or yellow in the stormy gray water.

The east bank had widened drastically, waves reaching into the forest and fallen trees rolling off the land before plunging into the water. The west bank was significantly better. Though still flooded, it seemed to be draining. Gordon’s trenches were working, but there was no sign of him among the debris.

As much as Scott wanted to ignore his other responsibilities and search for his brother, Gordon was not the only victim who needed his help. 

John guided Scott to the treeful of hikers Gordon had rescued. They were clinging to the branches, the tree already beginning to tip. Scott pulled up a bit, not wanting to blow them out of the tree with his downdraft. 

“I have eyes on the victims.” Scott confirmed. “Four of them. No sign of Gordon.” 

Scott set One to a hover and locked himself into a harness. The floor retracted and the familiar wave of adrenaline rushed through, washing away any chance at hesitation. 

A step forward into empty space. For a few moments he fell, the air whistling past his ears and the wind whipping around him. Then Scott jerked to a stop, his tether catching his harness.

When the hikers saw Scott settle into the highest branches they began to shout all at once, waving their hands up at him and pointing at the river. Judging by all the movement, Scott didn’t think anyone was hurt, but the tree was already beginning to shake and he definitely did not need anyone else falling into the river.

“I’m coming to get you!” Scott shouted down as he weaved his way through the branches, his tether following behind him. “But you  _ need  _ to stay still, this tree isn’t stable!” 

One of the hikers, a young boy, looked up at Scott with a desperate look in his eye. “But they fell in!” 

Scott froze. “ _ They _ ?” There was another besides Gordon? 

“My sister and an International Rescue guy. They got caught in the flood! You have to save them!” The kid was frantic and panicking, speaking so quickly Scott could hardly understand him, his movement shaking the branch he sat on. 

Scott tried to move toward the boy to help him, but his tether snagged a branch and yanked him backwards.

Luckily, Scott wasn't the only one who noticed. The man on the branch next to the kid grabbed his arm before he could fall out of the tree. “Nico, calm down.”

Scott raised a hand in a calming gesture. “Your friend's right. You need to stay calm. Take a breath, okay?” Scott mimed breathing deep and waited for Nico to copy him. 

Afterwards, the boy still looked shaken and scared, but no longer nearing hysterics. 

“Alright, good.” Scott said. “Now listen, I'm going to find your sister and my friend, okay? But we need to get you out of here first. I need you to climb up to me so we can go. Can you do that?”

Nico nodded, and slowly began to climb. As Nico neared him, Scott reached out and clasped the kid's wrist to haul the boy up next to him.

“You climb a lot of trees, Nico?” Scott asked, trying to keep the kid distracted as he clipped a short stretch of rope between his harness and Nico’s belt loop before guiding him up the tree. Gordon had always been the best of them when it came to kids, Scott and John sometimes joked that it was because their brother had never progressed past the mental age of twelve.

Scott’s breath hitched. As soon as he let his thoughts land on Gordon, he felt like a band was tightening around his chest, a feeling that signaled rising panic. 

_ Amateur move, Scott. Keep your mind focused on the mission, on who you can save right  _ _now_. Scott told himself, using Nico’s voice as it’s own sort of tether, to pull him back to the present. Scott was distracting himself now.

“Sometimes.” Nico mumbled, climbing slowly. “My mom doesn’t like me to.”

“My mom didn’t like me to, either.” Scott said, following behind him. ”She all but banned us from climbing trees when my little brother fell out of one and broke his arm- Hey, watch your footing!” 

Scott’s warning came too late. Nico stepped onto the weak branch, and the wood underneath him snapped. 

A sharp gasp escaped Nico’s mouth as he fell, Scott shot out a hand but  _ just _ grazed Nico’s fingertips. The rope between them went taut, the kid’s weight yanking Scott forward and pinning him flat against a branch.

Nico was spinning wildly on his short tether, suspended twenty feet above the river. Scott’s own harness bit into his shoulders, the line connecting him to One straining tight as it wove in and out of the branches, and it was about the only thing keeping the tree from falling as their combined weight threatened to pull it over.

The hikers below them were shouting again, but Scott kept his focus on Nico, him and his rapidly fraying belt loop.

Scott reached a hand down to try and catch Nico’s as he spun around, Scott’s heartbeat drumming loud in his ears. He reached out and his fingers enclosed empty air, missing Nico’s hand by three inches. The kid spun out of reach again, the tether sawing against the fabric of the belt loop. 

Scott gritted his teeth. He was not losing anyone else to this river today. He wrapped his legs around the branch and reached down further as Nico spun back around, the wood creaking under his weight. Scott was almost upside down and the blood rushed to his head, but Scott just managed to catch Nico’s sleeve. 

He hauled the kid back up, pulling him close to the trunk. “Are you okay?” 

Nico nodded, but he was visibly shaking. Scott regretted that he didn’t have the time to calm him down, but Thunderbird 1 was the only thing holding this tree upright, by a tether woven precariously through its branches no less. With three more people counting on him, Scott didn’t have time to stop. 

He detached his own tether and secured it to the branch, hopefully it would hold long enough for him to secure the tree properly.

Scott guided Nico the rest of the way carefully, branch by branch. When they reached the top, Scott lowered two more lines and fitted Nico with a harness. The lines retracted, pulling both of them up towards Thunderbird 1.

Scott gazed at the view as he was hoisted higher. The overgrown river carved its way through the forest, invading the land on one side, retreating back to the water on the other. And somewhere out there, in the middle of all that chaos and debris, was Gordon.

“Woah.” Nico said, his voice was a little bit awestruck and a little bit scared. 

“Yeah.” Scott said, his own tone matching the kid’s, the same way Scott’s thoughts were likely reflected in Nico’s mind. The both of them had a sibling lost somewhere down there.

The lines pulled them up into the belly of Thunderbird 1, and Scott worked quickly once the winches stopped. He strapped Nico into a jumpseat then slid into his own, securing the tree with much stronger lines and detaching the old tether. 

Scott secured himself with a new line and prepared to drop down again for the rest of the hikers. “I’ll be right back, don’t unbuckle your belt and don’t touch anything, alright?”

Nico nodded, watching Scott as he double checked his harness straps. “What’s your brother’s name?” He asked suddenly. ”The one who fell out of the tree and broke his arm?”

Scott swallowed, all the thoughts he’d been forcing away rushing back at him again. “Gordon.” He said.  _ Gordon. _ Scott looked at Nico. “What’s your sister’s name?”

“Persi.”

~ _ TB _ ~

Scott was enroute to Burrell’s research site with a hold full of passengers. It had taken every spare jumpseat he’d had, but they all fit.

Thankfully, Scott’s other three trips had been far less eventful than his climb up with Nico had been, and he’d got every up to Thunderbird 1 safely. It had been time consuming though, having to make three separate trips. All Scott could think about was how much time it was taking away from the search for his brother and that little girl. 

Thunderbird 1 came into the research site at the same time as Two did. Scott smiled, waving to his brother through the glass. The two landed next to each other with a practiced familiarity.

The same way taking off in Thunderbird 1 always gave him a rush of adrenaline, a wave of relief always rushed through Scott when he watched Two land. 

Two landing meant that help was here and Scott didn’t have to do everything on his own. It meant that Virgil was here, his right-hand man. Good thing to, goodness knows Scott could use his brother’s calming presence right now. 

The two only made a quick pit-stop at the research center, taking only the time needed for Virgil to give the flood victims a quick check up, and for the two brothers to pick up equipment from Two. 

Then they were off again, on foot this time, following the route John laid out into the forest.

John had teamed up with Dr. Burrell to figure out where the river had taken Gordon and Persi, since John was still unable to connect to Gordon’s signal. The estimated area was large though, and even with the SAR reinforcements, if Gordon hadn’t been able to keep himself and Persi together, the search could take twice as long. 

Scott and Virgil sloshed through the flooded forest, moving in a grid search pattern. Apart from the sound of the running river resounding from somewhere through the trees, the forest was eerily silent. The bugs and birds had all fled or drowned, a somber thought, but true. 

What struck Virgil even more than the lack of birdsong was Scott’s silence. It was stiff and uncomfortable, a far cry from their normal companionable quiet.

Virgil looked over at Scott’s tense expression, his eyes lacked their usual storm replaced with a flat, overcast gray. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was eating away at his brother. “He’s going to be okay.”

Scott glanced over at Virgil, the gray in his eyes shifting a bit, and Virgil caught a glimpse of the watery rainstorm Scott was trying to bury. 

“I know.” Scott said. His voice was terse, automated. Not at all Scott-like. They couldn’t work like this, Scott had to get out of his own head. 

Virgil sloshed to a stop and Scott turned around, a confused frown on his face. “What’s wrong, Virge?”

“You.” 

Scott’s confused look deepened. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Say it like you mean it, Scott.” Virgil challenged. “He’s going to be okay.”

“Virgil, I know he’s going to be okay. Now come on, we don’t have time to waste.” The statement sounded true enough, but his tone lacked it’s usual resolve. 

Scott had already turned and started walking again when Virgil’s voice stopped him for a second time. “It’s not your fault.” 

Scott’s body tensed and he stood still. “I let him go.” He said without facing Virgil. 

There it was. The guilt, piled high on Scott’s shoulders. Why did he always feel the need to take on everything on his own? 

“We all decided it was best.” Virgil said, trying to ease some of it.

“But it was  _ my _ call, Virge. I let him go.” 

“Scott.” Virgil walked around to face his brother, gripping his shoulders. “If you  _ didn’t  _ let him go, a lot of people would have died. Gordon saved lives today.”

Scott stepped back, out of his brother’s reach. The storm was back in Scott’s eyes, a cyclone of emotions clashing together inside them. “That doesn’t change the fact that I sent him here, alone, into a  _ known flood zone _ without a Thunderbird, without any backup of any kind, and I thought he’d be  _ safe _ ?” 

“This wasn’t supposed to be the mission, Scott, you know that. He was supposed to be in and out, that’s what we planned for.”

“We’re supposed to plan for anything. I didn’t. Gordon went in to save those people, he didn’t have what he needed, and he got caught in the flood, and that’s on  _ me _ .” Scott said, stabbing a finger at his chest.

“You’re right, Scott, we didn’t prepare for this.” Virgil said, fixing his brother’s eyes in his own gaze. “But Gordon would never leave anyone behind,  _ we _ taught him that.” Virgil saw something begin clear in Scott’s eyes when he accepted some of the blame. “So get your head on straight, Scott, he needs us.”

Scott was silent for a moment, then nodded, finally accepting what his brother was saying and clearing away some of the clouds in his judgement. Virgil doubted he would fully let go of the guilt until Gordon was safe at home and healing again, but at least Scott was focused now.

Their normal kind of silence settled over the two of them as they sloshed forward through six inches of water, eyes scanning the forest for any sign of Gordon or Persi. The water made their progress slow, and it seemed a long time before they reached the river.

Virgil’s face paled at his first sight of it. He’d seen the river from above while on approach, but it was entirely different up close. 

From up in the air, Virgil couldn’t see the waves crashing logs into the rocks, the force of the blow snapping them in two. Or the currents snatching up debris and dragging them down under the surface, never coming back up. The height had stopped him from imagining Gordon in place of that log or piece of debris. From up in the air, Virgil couldn’t tell the river was a monster.

Suddenly there was Scott’s hand on his shoulder, the contact snatching Virgil away from the frightening train of thought, his attention landing on his big brother.

The determined look in Scott’s eyes told Virgil what he himself had been saying out loud only minutes before.  _ He’s going to be okay. He has to be. _

Because neither of them knew what they would do if he wasn’t.


	5. Consciousness

“We’ve finished searching this section, John.” Scott’s hologram said to him. “We’re moving on to the next now.”

“FAB.” John was only half listening. Most of his attention was directed towards the mess of wires under his console. He was redirecting all his power from non-essential systems into his scanners. That  _ had _ to give him a better chance of finding Gordon.

“Have you heard anything from Search and Rescue?” Scott was still talking.

“I just got off the line with them.” John said, finally pulling his head from under his console and facing his brother. “They haven’t found anything yet.”

“And you?” The tone in Scott’s voice wasn’t that of a field commander asking for an update, but of a concerned brother worried about his younger sibling. 

But John didn’t need his brother’s concern right now, Scott should be focused on Gordon. “I’m still working on the scanners,” John said. “but I think I’m on to something.” 

Scott nodded, fully aware that John had dodged his real question, but willing to let it slide for now. “FAB. Let me know if you hear anything.”

John let out a breath of relief as Scott signed off, he didn’t need Scott digging up his emotions and clouding his judgement. He needed to focus.

“Alright, EOS. Run it again.” 

The white lights on EOS’ camera blinked on one by one as the program loaded. “Beginning search application.” 

The lights dimmed to their emergency settings and John floated up as the gravity ring switched off, the scanners leeching off their energy. A map of Trinity’s forests appeared in front of him. No hits.

“Results, EOS?” John asked for confirmation, the small, stubborn part of him hoping that it was just a loading error from the energy diversion. 

EOS’ voice was uncharacteristically quiet as she answered him. “Nothing, John. Apart from Scott and Virgil, there are no transmitting signals in Trinity.” 

John let his eyes fall closed as he floated there, a wave of disappointment crashing over him. He’d run this program over a dozen times, he should’ve expected this. What did they say the definition of insanity was? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? 

“John, are you alright?” EOS’ voice growing concerned as John just floated, making no move to begin again.

John opened his eyes and turned himself upright, his voice desolate as he spoke. “There’s nothing else I can  _ do _ , EOS. If I divert any more power we’ll be dead in space.”

EOS didn’t know what to say. All things considered, her understanding of humans hardly equipped her to make casual conversation, much less comfort the irrational beings. But she had to try, she quickly discerned, this was  _ John _ after all.

Her studies of International Rescue had informed her that hope, though an entirely baseless entity, seemed a tremendous comforter. She would try to provide some.

“It is doubtful that Gordon Tracy has perished.”

The words were too factual for their intended purpose, and invited in a hoard of unwelcome thoughts. Any of John’s other brothers would have flinched at best and left the room at worst, but John understood EOS better than most. 

“Then why can’t I find him?” There was no answer EOC could provide.

In the unwanted silence John’s fear and frustration finally boiled over, manifesting itself in a bust of anger. Where in the world was Gordon that even  _ Five _ couldn't find him?

“I don’t understand it, EOS! We’ve spent  _ days _ upgrading this system and we still can’t see anything in that valley, it doesn’t make sense!” John ran a hand through his hair, heaving out a sigh, suddenly exhausted. “I can’t do  _ anything _ from up here. It’s just like before, in the-” 

John cut himself off, the answer suddenly hitting him like a runaway train. “The mines. Oh, I’m an idiot.” 

“John, what is it?” EOS asked as he floated over to the console and began swiping through holoscreens.

“EOS, boot everything back up.”

He’d been looking in the wrong place the entire time. No one could find his brother because Gordon was  _ underground _ .

~ _ TB _ ~

Gordon’s eyes snapped open and his lungs heaved in gasping breath, as if believing he was still drowning. He was aware of too many things at once, loud noise and dark shadows, sharp rocks and running water. It was overwhelming.

He shut his eyes again, wanting to shut it all out and go back to sleep. But the sound was blaring and insistent, and enough like the rescue klaxon that Gordon’s instincts wouldn’t allow him to ignore it. 

Gordon tried to sit up, but his confused state caused it to become more of a flailing motion, and all of the splashing he was doing made him realize he was laying in a good three or four inches of water. 

The movement also triggered a throbbing pain in his back, which was quickly followed by a wave of nauseating panic as he also registered the lack of feeling in his legs. 

_ No, no, no. Not again.  _

Gordon couldn't stop his mind from flashing backwards, memories flicking in front of his eyes as clear as the day he’d lived them. 

Months trapped in a hospital bed, needles in his arms and bandages around his chest. Pain meds that just barely took the edge off. 

He saw the tired faces of his family, trying their best to encourage him with weary smiles, then heard their worried voices whispering their worst fears when they thought he was asleep. 

All of the therapy and the wheelchairs and the helplessness shoved it’s way to the forefront of his mind. And that deep, inky feeling of dread that had become a permanent fixture in his stomach in the months when he'd been caged within his own body. 

Gordon was only half aware that his breathing was becoming too quick and too shallow, and he barely registered the sparks of light reigning across his vision. His panic attack brought on a thrumming headache, pounding to the never ending beat of that klaxon.

He had to  _ stop this _ somehow. He couldn't go through it again. 

A voice floated into his head, seeping around the edges of the klaxon pounding.  _ Stay calm. Assess the situation. _ The words had a distinctly Scott-like tone to them, and Gordon found that they had a surprisingly soothing quality for coming out of the mouth of a steely-edged Field Commander. 

Gordon took the advice of his brother's ghost-like voice and attempted to calm himself down. He took a deep breath, wincing as he discovered another pain, this one in his chest. Bruised or cracked ribs most likely. The day was just getting better and better.

He tried tested his arms first, carefully wiggling each finger and bending each elbow, then let his arms fall back down with a splash. Not too much damage there, Gordon recognized the dull ache of new bruises, but that was nothing he couldn’t handle.

All that was left was his legs, and for a moment Gordon considered just laying there still, content with not knowing. But he steeled himself, and with a healthy dose of anxiety and more fear than he cared to admit, he commanded his toes to move.

Gordon could have cried when he felt his toes tap against the insides of his boots. His foot tingled as he awakened sleeping muscles, but it was a  _ feeling _ . He tested his ankles and knees next, laughing in pure relief as he pulled his legs up and dropped them back down. They worked; they moved!

Gordon almost gave in to the childish impulse to make a snow angel in the cold water.

The water… of course! He hadn’t been paralyzed, he was numb! Numb from lying in freezing water for who-knew-how-long!

Gordon pulled himself to his feet, laughing again when his legs took his weight, not caring that it hurt his chest. 

Alright, now to find out where the heck he was. Gordon flicked on a flashlight and illuminated his surroundings. “Well, that’s just great.” He mumbled, the extent of his predicament washing away Gordon’s joviality.

He was in a ditch. That was the best way Gordon could describe it. The river must have washed him into one of those sinkholes Dr. Burrell had told him about. 

The small space was only about seven feet in diameter, and the water he’d been laying in was practically mud. Gordon grimaced. That stuff was in his hair. 

His eyes followed the beam of light up the dirt and stone walls towards the ceiling, hoping for an exit. What he saw was definitely  _ not  _ an exit.

It was the pickup, or the front half of it anyway, about fifteen or twenty feet up, wedged into the opening like a cork in a bottle. The whole thing was dented and smashed, but it’s alarm was still going, the klaxon sound that woke him up.

Gordon sighed. Even if he  _ could _ climb all the way up there with his ribs and back, get into the cabin of the truck and bust through the rear window, all of the water running in from around the sides told him that whatever was above ground was flooded. Short version was that he wasn’t getting out of there that way.

Gordon turned a slow circle, searching the walls and floor for another exit. There had to be another way out- The beam of his flashlight landed on the hand of a child. Gordon cursed, remembering all at once that he hadn’t been alone when the flood hit him.

He ran over to the girl’s still form, falling to his knees in front of her, hoping that her selfless bravery hadn’t gotten her killed. The girl’s body was draped over a rock, and Gordon could vaguely remember the last ditch effort to keep her out of the cold water. 

He placed two fingers to her neck, letting out a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse. It was slow, but it was there. 

Gordon tried to rouse her, tapping gently against the side of her face. Her blue lips were a sign of hypothermia, meaning that she should definitely not be sleeping.

The girl began to stir slightly, mumbling words Gordon couldn’t understand. Her eyes opened up a crack then shut themselves firmly when the light hit them and her ears registered the blaring alarm. Being awake hurt too much, she’d rather sleep.

“Hey, come on now. You’ve gotta wake up.” Gordon said, pointing the flashlight toward the far wall and tapping on her cheek again. She made a whimpering sound and tried to turn away from him.

“No, no, none of that.” Gordon said, gently holding her in place. If she had broken ribs movement like that could lead to internal bleeding. The girl struggled against his grip, fighting him now.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m going to help you.” He said, trying to gain her trust. “My name’s Gordon, what’s yours?”

“Persi.” Came her quiet reply. She stopped struggling, but Gordon couldn't tell if she’d actually believed him or if she’d just exhausted herself. 

Her eyes flickered open again, tears trickling across the bridge of her nose as she curled in on herself. “M’arm hurts…” Her lips barely parting as she forced out the words.

Gordon performed a quick visual of the arm in question. There was no bone piercing through the skin, but right below her elbow was a hard lump where there shouldn’t have been, an obvious break.

“Does anything else hurt, Persi?” Gordon asked, gently feeling her ribs for any signs of a fracture.

She squeezed her eyes tight again. “M’head. I think I’m gonna throw up.” 

Concussion. “Hey. Doubly no sleeping now.” Gordon said, his voice taking on an urgent tone. Hypothermia and a head injury were a dangerous combination.

Persi opened her eyes again, but her face said that this took a great deal of effort. If Gordon couldn’t warm her up, he doubted she’d stay awake much longer. 

His jacket had a warming feature for just this kind of situation, but it was soaked through, and the freezing water would just lower her temperature even more. Gordon had packed spares but they were…

... In the truck.

Gordon’s eyes traveled back up to the roof of the sinkhole, where the cabin of the truck peeked out of the ceiling. And balancing on the backrest of the front seat was Gordon’s dark blue equipment bag, two stories up a rock wall.


	6. Shadow Puppets

_ How in the heck am I gonna get up there? _

It was a question that had no easy answer. At first glance it shouldn’t have been too difficult. The wall looked like it had some decent hand-holds, on a good day it would have been an easy climb up. Today definitely didn’t qualify. 

The pain in Gordon’s back and ribs seemed to amplify as he imagined the strain the climb would put on his injuries. Virgil would kill him if he ever found out that Gordon had attempted a rock climb with cracked ribs. He did kind of have a good reason, though. 

Gordon turned to Persi. Her small form curled in on itself, so cold she wasn’t even shivering anymore. Gordon’s decision seemed all the easier for it. It wasn’t ideal, nothing about this situation was, but he wasn’t about to let her die.

He crouched next to her again and spoke to her in low rushed tones, telling her that he needed to get something and that she had to be careful to stay awake and not roll of the stone and into the water. Persi seemed to understand, but she was looking more and more drowsy by the minute, he would have to be quick.

Flashlight between his teeth and grapple gun in hand, Gordon took careful aim at the wall and fired. The grapple flew upwards and latched onto stone far above his head, trailing a tether. 

_ Alright, no biggie,  _ Gordon thought to himself as he attached the tether to his sash, trying in vain to convince himself that this was no different from the exercises at home. 

Bracing himself, Gordon reached for a handheld, grunting in pain as he heaved himself the first foot up. Not giving himself a chance to chicken out, Gordon reached for the next handhold, and the next, moving in an assembly line fashion. Right hand, right foot. Left hand, left foot. 

He climbed up six more feet before he had to stop and rest for a moment, finally forced to acknowledge the throbbing pain in his lower back and the spikes that shot through his chest every time he breathed.

_ Yep.  _ **_Just_ ** _ like home,  _ Gordon thought dryly as he tried to breathe through the pain, his hands clenching the stone. He didn’t allow himself to rest for too long though, knowing that time was of the essence and not wanting this to take a moment longer than necessary.

Gordon had been trying to hold most of his weight with his arms to keep the brunt of the force off of his injuries, but his muscles were soon shaking and burning with the effort and he was forced to shift his weight back to his core.

Gordon’s teeth bit into the cold metal of the flashlight as he forced himself to climb through the pain, knowing that if he stopped again he’d never be able to make himself start moving. His movements were robotic and instinctive, the pain burning in his back and ribs pushing away any actual thought.

The minutes stretched out far too long for him as he climbed, and sweat and tears were rolling down his face by the time he made it to the top. He did make it though, endless as the climb had seemed, and when he reached up stiffly for the next handhold, he was surprised when his hand touched the cool metal hood of the pick-up instead.

Gordon breathed out a weary laugh.  _ Oh, finally.  _ He reached up through the broken windshield to grab the strap of his bag, but the movement pulled something in his back, and Gordon cried out as a spasm of pain ricocheted through him. 

Sharp stone dug into the palms of his gloves as his hands clenched down on the rock, eyes squeezed shut. Gordon’s forehead came forward to rest on the damp stone, his teeth grinding together as he willed the pain to stop.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before it eventually receded, not quite gone but lessened enough to bear. Gordon breathed in slowly and opened his eyes, realizing with a pang of regret that he’d dropped his flashlight and was now left in the dark. Brilliant. It’d been hard enough for him when he could see.

Gordon reached out tentatively in the dark, his movements careful and measured, squinting to try to make sense of the shadowy shapes. His muscles twinging in protest as he waved his arm around in the dark. Gordon held his breath, holding still for a moment and waiting for another spasm to overtake him, it never came though and he sighed in relief, continuing his search. He reached higher into the truck found what felt like the headrest of the driver's seat, then discovered the straps of the bag, his fingertips just skimming the edges.

Gordon gritted his teeth and used the truck as leverage to pull himself farther in, his gloves protecting him from the spikes of glass from the windshield. After a short eternity, his hands finally found the bag and his fingers curled around the straps. He tossed the bag back out of the window behind him, letting it fall to the ground with a solid thump.

He had begun to carefully back out of the empty windshield when suddenly the truck dropped down a foot, water pouring in from around the sides and the high-pitched, screaming  _ screech _ of metal on stone slicing through the cave.

Gordon was lurched from the hood of the truck with a surprised yelp, falling for a split second before his tether caught him with a harsh jerk of his sash. The momentum sent him arcing through the air and slammed him shoulder-first into the stone wall, leaving him dazed and disoriented.

He hung there on the line, trying to sort out all of the ringing sounds echoing through his head, when a second screech split through the air and tore out the bells in his ears. The truck dropped again and was now hovering just a few inches above his head. If it fell there was nothing stopping it from crushing both him and Persi. 

The realization switched Gordon’s instinct onto overdrive. He pulled the grapple gun from his hip with one smooth, whip fast movement, his own focus dulling the pain of his injuries. With a practiced motion, Gordon aimed straight across from him, the darkness doing nothing to hinder his accuracy. Gordon fired, a tether stretching from his side of the cave to the wall across from him. He did this over and over, lengths of rope flying from one end of the cave to the other, in all directions, forming an intricate spider web of life-saving lines just above his head.

At last he was out of grapples, and, short of worrying, there was nothing more he could do. Anyone could tell that it wouldn’t hold forever, eventually the truck would fall. Gordon could only hope his brothers would find him before eventually caught up to him. 

Waning adrenaline made Gordon’s descent painful, and he was fully aware of the straps of his sash biting painfully into his sides. He hadn’t even realised he’d been holding his breath until his boots touched the ground and he crumpled to his hands and knees in the muddy water, trying to get a decent breath into his lungs.

It was a few moments before Gordon could force himself to move, but eventually he disconnected his tether, fished around in the murky water for his bag and lost flashlight, and made his way back to Persi.

“Persi?” He called, an urgent tone making its way into his voice when he noticed her closed eyes. But he needn’t have worried, she snapped them open the moment he called her name.

“What was that sound?” She asked in a small voice, clearly terrified. 

The poor kid was probably thinking the cave was collapsing on top of them, and Gordon grimaced, realizing how close she’d be to the truth if she was.

“Uh, don’t worry about it. I took care of it.” He said trying to force some cheer into his voice, glad that the flashlight was pointed away from him and Persi couldn’t see his expression.

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure.” He said mustering a small smile. “Now, here, look, I've got a present for you.” He said to distract her. He helped her to sit up next to him on the rock and draped the jacket across her shoulders as if it were the cape of a queen.

“What do you think? Stylish, huh?” Gordon asked as he cranked up the heat. Persi smiled and gave a slight laugh, and Gordon grinned at this small victory. 

He took care of her arm next. Gordon was unable to set the bone but at least he could make Persi more comfortable. Using the little bit of medical supplies he had, he was able to splint her arm and set it in a sling, chatting with her about this and that the whole time to distract her from the procedure. 

“Better, right?” He asked as he finished with Persi’s arm, noting with satisfaction that her face was flushed, a sure sign that she was warming up.

Persi nodded distractedly, her eyes peering out at the darkness, trying to see beyond the small beam of Gordon’s flashlight. She’d been too out of it to notice before, but if the deep earthy smell was any clue to go off of, it was clear that they were underground. How had they even gotten down here? Was there a way out?

Persi looked up towards the ceiling, squinting to try and make out the top. How deep were they? 

“Hey,” Gordon spoke up, gaining her attention. “The rest of my team is on their way right now to come get us. It won’t be too long, I promise.” He said, trying his best to put her worries to rest.

“But how can they even  _ find _ us?”

“They will. We’ve got the best tracker in the world looking out for us.” Gordon said faithfully of John. “All we have to do is sit tight and wait for them. Now,” Gordon said grinning, as he suddenly got an idea. “How do you feel about shadow puppets?”

“Shadow puppets?” She couldn’t have heard that right. “You want to make shadow puppets?” 

“Well, sure. You just so happen to be looking at a world renowned shadow puppet thespian.” Gordon said grandly. “Here, would you hold the flashlight? All the best puppets require two hands.” 

Ordinarily, Persi would’ve found his idea ridiculous, and she was ninety-nine percent sure Gordon was lying about being a thespian of any kind, but Gordon’s energy was infectious, and she found herself warming up to the idea of a puppet show in this deep, dark cave. 

“Any requests?” He asked cheerfully, and Persi shook her head saying that she preferred a surprise.

“Waterfowl it is then.” Gordon declared, forming the only aquatic creature he knew. The silhouette of a swan appeared on the far wall in the center of the glow. Gordon made the swan open and shut its beak and ruffle its feathers, complete with his own personal sound effects.

Persi watched as the swan morphed into a new animal, this one also with fluttering wings, though decidedly less graceful. “A bat?”

“Yes, but a  _ magical bat _ .” Gordon said dramatically, making the bat flap its wings and fly around on the wall. “It turns into a butterfly when you squint.”

Persi squinted, just to see, and then laughed; the bat really did look like a butterfly.

The puppet theater was a helpful distraction for the both of them, the activity and conversation kept Persi in high spirits and helped Gordon to fight off his increasing fatigue, even if he knew only four real puppets and had to come up with several less convincing ones on the fly.

That wasn’t to say their predicament didn’t weigh on them though, Persi jumped at every stray sound and Gordon was all too aware of the pickup truck suspended above them by a woven mess of tethers. He hoped his brothers would find them soon, his rush job wouldn’t hold for long, and when those lines snapped and that truck fell, there was nowhere for the two of them to go.


	7. Yellow Light

It was a rare thing for John to be wholly focused on any one thing. He was a multitasker, and his job required him to be an exceptionally good one. John’s concentration was often spliced and divided between missions, but right now his mind was in only one place. In front of a map to Trinity, searching for his brother. And this wasn’t the frantic, guess and check, throwing-darts-at-a-map method of before. He knew exactly where to look.

“Here, here, and here.” John murmured to no one in particular. EOS didn’t say anything either, having gathered enough data on John to know he did his best thinking out loud. On each of the places he’d pointed to on the map, a holographic marker appeared to identify the location. These were the sinkholes within Gordon’s approximate range. There were three of them, spread far apart. Too many to send his brothers to.

John thought fleetingly of the Search and Rescue team, they would go wherever he told them to, he knew. But he wouldn’t- he couldn’t- pull them off their above ground search. Though John felt confidant that Gordon was underground, he had no way to confirm if the girl, Persi, was with him. 

And as much as John’s heart battled with his conscience, he would never cancel that search to have a better chance of finding Gordon. His little brother would never forgive him for one thing, and International Rescue did not trade lives, regardless if it was one of their own in the gamble or not.

John’s eyes fell on the screen scrolling through his activity log, scan after failed scan filling the screen. John’s eyebrows came together. The scanner obviously hadn’t worked before, but then it’d been spread over a wide area. Perhaps if he focused it… 

John turned from his screen to look up at the camera hovering above his shoulder. “EOS, I need you to narrow the scanner’s perimeters to a fifty square foot radius and survey those locations.”

EOS’s light’s flashed orange, her confusion color. “John, fifty square feet at full power exceeds safety parameters, probability of damage to the scanners is 84.35% if you continue.” 

John knew this, but it seemed a small price to pay for finding his little brother. “Disable the safety protocols and proceed.”

If EOS had had eyebrows, she would’ve raised them, never before had John done anything to intentionally damage his station. But her surprise only lasted a fraction of a second before her lights blinked green and she carried out John’s request. “Reconfiguring scanners.” 

Her conscience dove deep into the software, 1’s and 0’s blurring together into streams of light as she flew past them. She picked out the targeted code and allowed herself to materialize. Red hair and aqua eyes, the blue suit and lavender sash that discerned her as International Rescue.

It wasn’t truly her, simply how she perceived herself when she contained herself within the software. The form was an extension of her conscience, an avatar, if you will. 

EOS collected the scanner’s code and rewrote the script with a flick of her hand, altering the parameters and focusing the radius. 

Her voice rang out through the speakers of Thunderbird 5. To her, it seemed a million miles away. To John, she was right where she’d always been. “Targeting locations.”

EOS lined up her sights and focused on the marbley Earth down below, zeroing in on the markers John had provided. “Gathering data.” 

Wielding the scanner script like a bow, she notched an arrow and let it fly, firing off two more in quick succession, each hitting their mark before the bow dissolved into sparks in her hands. Through her camera she saw John jump back from his console, smoke rising from a section of fried circuitry.

Luckily, the connection had been successful, fleeting though it was, and small bits of data were flowing into her mainframe. EOS analyzed each ribbon of script before she fed it back into Thunderbird 5 and over to John, and in the blurr of code she discovered what they’d been searching for. A small group of numbers in a particular order,  _ 7-15-18-4-15-14 _ . That was how she read his name. Gordon.

EOS flew back into her hardware, and with the quickness of a blink she was again a camera on the wall. 

“Gordon’s location is acquired.” She told John. She loaded the data onto the map and John’s eyes landed on a blinking yellow light.

For a moment, just one moment, John allowed himself to be a brother instead of a rescuer, and a wave of relief came crashing down on top of him. He’d found his brother. John finally found his brother. There was no suit telemetry. No vital stats. None of the readings John had come to rely upon when he sent his brothers into the field. Nothing but a yellow light on his screen. But for right now, it was good enough for him. And it was all Scott and Virgil needed to know.

John opened a line and the holographic forms of his brothers appeared in front of him, their tired, anxious faces taking on a hopeful light when they notice the smile John hadn’t been able to erase.

John quickly filled them in on all the information he’d been able to gather about Gordon’s present location. “The satellite images indicate that the sinkhole is plugged with something, it’s protecting him from the flood waters on the surface so you can’t extract it.”

Virgil eyed the images critically. “Drilling in is also out of the question with all the water. What we need is another access point above the flood line.”

“We can use the mines.” Scott said. “Dr. Burell told me that the sinkholes intersect with some of Conelly’s old mine shafts. The closest entry point to Gordon’s location is here.” Scott said, pointing to a place on the map.

“We’ll need excavation equipment, John.” Virgil said. “And my exo-suit.”

“I’ll have EOS fly Two over to you remotely and meet you there.” John nodded to EOS. Her lights blinked green, indicating she was already taking care of it.

“FAB.” Scott said, satisfied with the plan. “And John?” He asked, meeting his little brother’s eyes with a small nod and a meaningful gaze. “Good work.” 

John gave a small smile and a quick nod before signing off. This was good news, but they weren’t out of the woods yet. John had one more piece of business to take care of. He was about to send his brothers into a maze of dark tunnels and dead ends. With Five’s scanners fried he needed an alternate way to guide them through the mine, and, unfortunately for him, there was only one person with that information.

John dialed a number he quite hoped he’d never have the displeasure of dialing again. A young woman picked up, the secretary, if John remembered correctly.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

“Yes, hello, this is International Rescue. I’d like to speak with Jacob Connelly "

~ _ TB _ ~

The merger that had long been on his mind was now utterly forgotten. Connelly sat rigid at his desk, glaring at his computer screen and flicking through every news report the media was able to provide. Each report was almost identical, stating the same facts over and over with striking consistency.

Saying over and over that two people, a child and a hero no less, had been caught in the floods while on Jacob Connelly’s property. That there had been warnings and the business tycoon had refused to listen, and instead chose to willingly put their lives in danger. 

He’d be ruined. Completely and utterly ruined. His business partner would cut all ties with him if the media proved this to be true. Connelly needed something to throw the press of his trail, some sort of scapegoat. A scapegoat and a very good lawyer.

The phone rang, a sound Connelly had come to hate in the last three hours, and he turned to it with a scowl. Reporters had been hounding his office for a statement since they’d gotten hold of the story.

He snatched up the phone and barked into the receiver. “Melanie, if this is another of those blasted reporters tell them I have no comment and hang up.”

His secretary’s voice was rigid on the other end of the line. She was likely as fed up with the media as he was. “It’s not the press, sir-”

“My lawyer then?” Connelly interrupted. “Hurry and put him through.”

“It’s not your lawyer either. International Rescue is on the line.”

Connelly sucked in a breath. They knew he was at fault. They had to know. If  _ International Rescue _ told the media that he was to blame, his career was as good as over. The entire world trusted the whole blasted organization unconditionally.

“Mr. Connelly?” Melanie was still on the line. “What should I tell him?”

Connelly hesitated, a first for him in many years. “This… this is an operative, Melanie?”

“Um, I believe so, sir.”

“So it’s not an official speaking on their behalf, like a lawyer of some sort?” 

“No, I don’t think- I’m quite sure he’s an operative, sir.” An operative. Perhaps they weren’t looking for a legal statement then, but only needed information. The incident did occur on his property after all. And if he was seen helping International Rescue, it would help him to save face.

“What should I tell him, sir?” Melanie asked again. “He’s waiting.”

“Yes, put him through, Melanie.”

The line clicked, and a hologram of a red-haired young man with a serious face appeared above Connelly’s desk. This was John, if Connelly remembered correctly, the same man who’d picked up the call about his mine collapse.

“International Rescue.” Connelly said by way of greeting. “Am I correct to assume this isn’t a social call?”

John nodded. “Urgent business, unfortunately. I assume you’re aware of the flash flood near Trinity? We need to use one of your mine shafts to retrieve one of the victims.”

“So, you need my permission.” Connelly concluded. “You have it, of course.” He said with a wave of his hand, hoping that his cooperation would mask his involvement in the incident in the first place.

John blinked. “No, Mr. Connelly. Our ground crews don’t require permission from locals to operate. We need maps of the mine located here.” John said, transmitting coordinates to Connelly with a swipe of his hand.

They loaded on his computer and Connelly recognized the location without having to check his maps. This was the illegal mine shaft. The one that was in violation of numerous safety codes and the reason for the sinkholes on his property. No one was supposed to know it existed. Of all the days for it to be discovered.

Connelly managed to keep his face neutral, but only just. “I’m sorry, but there is no mine shaft located at these coordinates.”

John looked confused. “Yes, there is, look.” John sent over satellite images of the location, and Connelly made a show of looking over the pictures with a puzzled frown on his face.

“I don’t have any record of this mine shaft, but I’ll have my team look into it.” Conelly said, shaking his head, knowing all the while that his excuse was shallow and his lie practically transparent.

John’s face was impassive, an eyebrow arched, obviously not believing him. “Look, International Rescue is not a law enforcement agency.” He said, trying to reason with Connelly. “Whatever ordinances that shaft is in violation of aren’t our concern-”

“Every one of my mine shafts are completely up to code,” Connelly glowered at John and lied through his teeth. “I see to it personally. And if you are through with your unfounded accusations, I have other matters to attend to.”

John held Connelly’s gaze with his own for a few quiet moments. “I’ll be sending my men in blind.” He said finally. He was trying to make an appeal to Connelly’s emotions. Unfortunately for him, Connelly had learned very early on that emotion had no place in anything involving his business.

“I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do about that. Good day.”

John nodded slowly. “I’m sorry I wasted both of our time.” And his hologram disappeared.

Immediately, Connelly called for Melanie.

“I need you to destroy every file pertaining to mine shaft number A107.” He said to her as soon as she entered the room and shut the door. “After you’ve erased the digital files you will need to go to the archives and destroy the physical copies. This includes maps, inspection reports, everything. Not a single mention of the mine shaft is to remain, do you understand?”

International Rescue had already discovered the mine shaft, there was nothing Connelly could do about that. But if he could make the authorities believe he had no prior knowledge of the tunnel, he may be able to escape the brunt of the charges.

Melanie’s brows furrowed at the unusual request. Connelly couldn't recall a single instance in her employment that she questioned him, but she did now. “May I ask why, sir?”

Connelly sat back in his chair, arms folded and eyes narrowed. “No, you may not.” 

Melanie glanced away from him then, and stood silent for a moment. When she met his gaze again he could see the indecision in her eyes. “What did International Rescue want?” She asked hesitantly.

“The conversation was private, Melanie.” He said to her, his eyes daring her to ask again. 

She didn’t.

Connelly dismissed her with a wave of his hand and turned back to his computer screen. “Now go do what I asked. And quickly-”

“He wanted to know about the tunnel.” Melanie said, her quiet voice holding a surprising amount of anger.

Connelly turned back to his secretary. There was fury smoldering in her gaze, her hands clenched in shaking fists by her sides. “He wanted to know about the tunnel.” She repeated, louder this time, her voice trembling with anger. “Why are you telling me to destroy the information they need to  _ save live _ s?” 

“Melanie. You don’t understand what’s at stake-”

“I understand that this is all your fault!” She shouted at him. “I  _ told _ you to close that trail! I _ told  _ you! And now those people are trapped somewhere, and you-”

Connelly shot up from his chair, his hands slamming down on the top of his desk. “ _ I _ am trying to  _ save my company _ .” 

Melanie took a step back, in fear and surprise, but then steeled herself. “Well, I don’t want any part in it. Consider this my resignation.” She turned on her toe and began to walk away, high heels clacking on hardwood.

“You walk out the door and I guarantee you’ll regret it.” Connelly said, his voice was dark and low.

Her footsteps stopped and Melanie swung back around to face him, her arms crossed. “And why is that?”

“Because I can make it look like the accident was  _ your _ fault.”

Melanie’s eyes widened, her arms falling back to her sides.

Connelly smiled, taking his seat again. “It would be simple, really. Delete a few security tapes, edit a few others. I can make it look like the trail orders never left your desk. That’s negligence at best, Melanie, but in the worst case scenario I can make it look intentional. Now imagine the charges for something like that.”

Melanie stood silent, her eyes on the floor. All of her anger and defiance seemed to have drained out of her.

“Now, go do what I’ve asked.” He said to her again.

Melanie lifted up her head to meet his eyes, her back straight and her eyes dull. “Yes, sir.” She left without another word and shut the door behind her. 

Connelly sat back in his chair and let out a breath, it finally seemed as if his day was turning around. Melanie would take care of that blasted mine once and for all. And even better, she was the solution to this flood debacle.

Here was his scapegoat.


	8. 23 Pages

“Gordon?” 

That was strange. Someone was calling him. Was that Alan? 

Wait, no, of course not. Alan wasn’t here. Besides this voice was too high pitched to be Alan, even if his voice hadn’t dropped yet. And the hand shaking his shoulder was far too small to be his brother’s. 

“Are you okay?”

And  _ ow. _ The shaking hurt. He should make whoever was shaking him stop it. But that seemed like it might take a lot of energy, and he was  _ tired _ . He should get Scott to do it. Scott would want him to rest, he was sure. 

But, no, Scott wasn’t here either. Neither was John, or Virgil come to think of it. Why was he in a place with no brothers, all alone with someone who was hurting him at the same time they were asking if he was okay?

“Gordon?”

The voice was getting a bit panicky now, and the shaking was getting harder. And even though it hurt, he had the oddest urge to comfort the speaker. After all he was quite alright. He just wanted to go to sleep.

“You told me not to let you sleep. Wake up!” 

He was already asleep? That couldn’t be right. He was sure he would know if he was asleep or not. He only had his eyes closed, but he supposed he should open them and tell this person that he was alright, especially since there was no one else around to do it for him.

Gordon’s eyelids slid open one at a time, and his mind was sluggish to catch up with the rest of him. He was sitting up against the wall of the cave, water pouring down over the stone and soaking into the back of his suit. Yes, he remembered this bit. He also remembered that the water used to be cold and it made him shiver; at least it was warm now.

His chin was dropped down to his chest. He should lift his head up so the person would stop shaking him and asking if he was alright. It was harder than he thought though, and it took a couple tries before his head was held up the way it ought to be.

Oh! It was bright. Hadn’t he turned off the light? Persi had said it was hurting her head, and Gordon had quickly tired of the shadow puppets anyway; moving his arms hurt his ribs. 

Wait, Persi! She was here! She was the one calling his name and shaking his shoulder. And she was saying things again. He should listen.

“Are you alright, Gordon? Can you hear me?”

Gordon nodded, and his chin almost touched his chest again. “I’m okay…” He said slowly, as if he’d struggled to find the two little words.

Persi didn’t seem to believe him, and her eyes were wide and concerned. “You don’t sound right. Did you hit your head too?” 

“My head?” He was trying to remember… “No-o, I don’t think so.” 

The slur in his voice scared Persi. He hadn’t mentioned hitting his head before, but she’d read that a lot of times people didn’t even know it when they did. “Do you remember where we are, Gordon?” She asked, trying to figure out if maybe Gordon did have a concussion.

He glanced around at his rocky surroundings. “Kinda hard to forget… don’t you think?” Gordon asked, raising his eyebrow a bit. His mind finally seemed to be catching up with his body, and his usual wit returned.

The bit of humor seemed to put Persi at ease, even though Gordon hadn’t moved from his slumped position against the stone. She curled up next to him again. “It’s your turn to ask.” She said.

Gordon nodded. “Is it a person, place, or thing?” 

He’d just barely been able to remember they’d been playing 20 Questions.

~ _ TB _ ~

Virgil crept carefully down the ladder into the mine shaft, wary of the creaking noises coming from the rusted rungs. This was the last time he entered a mine without an elevator.

“How much further, Virge?” Scott called down from above him. The tunnel had narrowed considerably since they’d entered it, it was so tight now that Scott could hardly see around Virgil and his exo-suit, and his little brother had hardly any space to move at all.

“Not far, only-” The sentence was cut off with a surprised yelp when the rung collapsed under Virgil’s foot, and sent him plummeting the rest of the distance to the floor of the shaft.

“Virgil!” Scott shouted. “Are you alri-?” Scott cut off the rest of his sentence when he looked down to see Virgil sitting square on his rear, looking thoroughly miffed, about six feet below him. Scott’s heartbeat calmed to normal when he realized there was no pain in Virgil’s expression, only surprise and irritation.

Scott jumped down the rest of the way down and hauled his brother to his feet. 

“Only about two more yards.” Virgil finished grumpily, glaring at the ladder that’d betrayed him.

Scott pursed his lips and tried not to smile. “You alright, Virge?”

Virgil sighed. “I’m fine.” He said, turning his gaze from the broken rungs to the rotting timbers that were supposedly holding the place up, the light on his shoulder illuminating the space. “This place is a wreck.” Virgil said, shaking his head.

“Connelly’s wreck.” Scott said, eyeing the logos burned into the timbers every few paces. “Doesn’t matter what he says, only an idiot would think this mine shaft didn’t belong to him.”

“Well I think Connelly fits quite nicely into that category.” Virgil said, ducking under a low beam and starting purposefully down the tunnel.

Scott looked after his brother for a moment, smiling, then shook his head and jogged a bit to catch up with him. Virgil was usually the one to “turn the other cheek”, it was pretty uncharacteristic of him to make underhanded remarks, even when dealing with the more…  _ difficult _ personalities they encountered on this job.

Scott raised his com to his mouth and hailed his brother. “Thunderbird 5, you reading us up there?” John had walked Scott and Virgil through reconfiguring their comlinks so that they boosted each others signal’s, with the hopes that they would still be able to communicate with John when they entered the mine.

“Loud and clear.” John replied. “With any luck you’ll be able to contact Gordon when you get close enough.”

“FAB.”

Scott and Virgil stopped as they arrived at their first intersection, both tunnels sloped quickly downwards, one turning off sharply to the left, the other meandering slowly to the right. The brothers quickly inspected each of the tunnels before carefully shuffling down the steep incline of the second one, wary of the loose gravel covering the slope.

Without any real direction, and since John’s hacking efforts hadn’t turned up anything in Connelly’s databases, the plan was to head steadily in the general direction of Gordon’s signal. It was a frustrating tactic, and meant frequent backtracking when they encountered dead-ends or went down a tunnel that turned from their desired direction.

“Never thought I’d wish for Thunderbird 4 in a mine shaft.” Virgil said dryly as they doubled back for the sixth time. “Sonar really would come in handy right now.”

“I know what you mean.” Scott said. “It feels like we’re wasting time down here. You think there’s a way we could drain the water on the surface so we can drill in directly?”

Virgil shook his head. “I doubt it, Scott. Unless you’re planning on bailing out the valley by the bucketful.” Virgil added with a twinkle in his eye.

Scott groaned when the two of them rounded a corner and were faced with a caved in tunnel. The rocks were piled up from the floor to the ceiling, the smallest stones were about the size of his head, the largest were boulders as big as Virgil. 

“Bailing out the valley doesn’t seem like that bad of an option right about now.” Scott said pulling a couple jacks and a sheet of metal out of his equipment bag.

“I hear that.” Virgil grunted, rolling a boulder out of the way, his exo-suit hissing with the strain. In the empty space Virgil had created, Scott shoved a pair of jacks and placed a piece of sheet metal on top, cranking the jacks up high enough so he and Virgil could stand under them if they crouched. They waited a few moments for the rocks to settle again then began the process all over again.

The two brothers worked in tandem for the better part of an hour digging through the cave-in. They were crossing their fingers the whole of the time, hoping their little tunnel wouldn’t collapse. Eventually, Virgil removed the last stone, shoving it forward with a great heave, and broke through to the other side.

It felt victorious in the moment, but when Virgil looked back he quickly realized how little they’d accomplished in that long time. Virgil shook his head at the small tunnel he and Scott had formed through the rocks. It was terribly unimpressive. “It should be illegal to take this long to travel ten feet.” He said to Scott as his brother exited the tunnel, Virgil’s breath heavy from the excursion.

Scott slung his bag over his shoulder, now significantly lighter. “I second that.” He said, looking at the tunnel with poorly disguised frustration. It felt like they were getting nowhere. And it was made all the worse by the fact that they had no idea of Gordon’s condition. He and Virgil  _ had _ to move faster.

“Come on, Virge, let’s go.” Scott said, turning around and gesturing for his brother to follow. They’d hardly walked a minute when the distinct sound of crunching metal made them freeze in their tracks. Virgil looked back over his shoulder; one of their jacks had buckled like an accordion. The rocks above their head rumbled. A pebble fell from the ceiling and bounced off of Scott’s helmet.

“Run!” They both shouted at the same time, Scott grabbing onto the metal arm of Virgil’s suit and hauling him into a sprint. 

It built up gradually, and at first it was a low knocking sound, like hail on a rooftop, far behind them. The falling stones grew in size and the noise built up into a thunderous roar. A dark cloud of dust rushed in from behind, enveloping Virgil, and then Scott, their lights barely making a two foot dent.

The entire time they’re running, they can only think of the avalanche more than a decade ago, that had sounded  _ just _ like this, and the mother who was lost in it.

A stone hit Virgil between his shoulders, he grunted and nearly tripped, but took the blow. Another stone struck Scott’s helmet and his run became staggered. Without thinking, Virgil shoved him forward, sending Scott tumbling end over end down a hill and out of his sight.

A large stone struck Virgil’s shoulder, the blow throwing off his balance and sending him stumbling into the wall. He cried out as boulders and timber beams piled themselves painfully across his back, driving him to his hands and knees and burying him deep within the mine.

~ _ TB _ ~

Melanie felt like a fugitive with the folder under her arm. It was twenty-three pages and lighter than a magazine, but felt like an anchor dragging behind her. 

Her footsteps seemed to echo through the halls, entirely too loud for the quiet office building. Her straight posture and forward stare felt too bold, as if she were daring everyone around her to guess her terrible secret. Everything she did felt too obvious, too transparent. Dread built up like knots inside her stomach, and her conscience was guilt-ridden and inescapable. 

Melanie was incredibly relieved to reach the relative privacy of her office. She shared the space with Joan, one of the accountants. 

Melanie tried for a polite smile as she entered the room, it felt stiff and forced on her lips, but it must have looked acceptable because Joan simply smiled back and turned again to her work.

Melanie sat down at her desk, eyeing the paper shredder against the wall, halfway between her desk and Joan’s. She shared the shredder. If she destroyed the file here could she trust Joan wouldn’t get suspicious?

And it was twenty-three pages! Melanie could very well be standing over that shredder for a good five minutes, that would almost certainly draw Joan’s attention.What would she say when Joan asked her what she was shredding? Could she lie to Joan? And even if she did, would Joan believe her? What if she didn’t believe her, and decided to piece together the shredded files. It wouldn't be hard, some of them were aged yellow, they’d stand out loud and clear among the white.

No. She couldn’t risk Joan finding out, the shredder was most definitely out of the question. What if Melanie just dumped the whole file into the trash, folder and all? Joan would never go through the trash. But Jimmy, the intern, came in and took out the trash every other day, and how was she to know what he did with it?

Melanie couldn’t risk that either. She couldn’t get rid of the files at work, there was too much of a chance of them getting discovered. She would destroy them when she got home. She’d burn them. Then no one would ever know.

Melanie shoved the files in her brief case, and similarly tried to shove the matter from her mind, but her thoughts kept traveling back to the papers in her bag, and she couldn’t focus on any of her work.

Eventually, she just began to type gibberish into an empty document, so at the very least she looked busy to Joan and anyone who might pop their head in.

The downside was the activity left her with far too much space to think. Melanie was going back and forth with her conscience and was beginning to feel like she might actually throw up when Joan’s voice pulled her out of her head.

“You ready to go, Mel?” 

Melanie’s head shot up. “I’m sorry?” Was it time to leave already?

Joan looked just a bit hurt that Melanie seemed to have forgotten. “Dinner. With me and Charlie.” 

That’s right. Joan had invited Melanie to a nice restaurant with her and her husband. Melanie had been looking forward to the outing, Joan and Charlie had become good friends of her’s since Joan had started working here. 

But she couldn’t go. Pretending to work was one thing, but there was no way she could have any semblance of a normal evening until these papers were burned and gone.

“I’m sorry, Joan.” And she really was. “I can’t tonight. Mr. Connelly gave me another assignment, you know how he is.”

Joan sighed, but nodded. “You know, you should ask that man for a raise with all the work he dumps on you.”

Melanie forced a laugh. “What? And lose my job?”

Joan smiled and gathered her things. “Just don’t let him work you too hard, Mel. You’re looking a little pale.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take a break soon. We’ll have to plan to get together another night, alright?”

“Absolutely.” Joan agreed. She wished Melanie good-night and then she was gone.

Melanie deleted her useless document, then gathered her briefcase and coat and left as well, making sure to wait a few minutes so she couldn’t run into Joan again. She didn’t have the energy or the conscience to try and make it through another normal conversation.

It was a hard thing for Melanie to obey the rules of the road that night, but she managed to make it home without running any red lights or breaking the speed limit. 

“Hi, Miss Melanie!” The neighbor girl called from across the street.

Melanie could only give a shaky wave in reply. The missing girl in Trinity was about the same age as this one; even their names were similar, Patty and Persi. Persi’s parents must be worried sick. Could she have been found by now if Melanie had given the plans over to International Rescue?

Melanie shook her head and rushed into her house, locking the door behind her. She couldn’t give those papers over. She  _ couldn’t _ . Connelly would turn her into a criminal.

Melanie all but ran to the kitchen, eager to be done with everything. She dropped the file into the empty sink and, anticipating the smoke, threw open the windows. She took the batteries out of her smoke detector next. She knew some of the newer ones called the fire department as soon as they went off, she didn’t know which kind her’s were.

Finally satisfied, Melanie took a box of matches out of the cabinet and rolled up her sleeves. She struck a match and lit it, held it over the sink, fingers poised to let go...

… but…

Could she really do that? What if burning these papers killed that little girl? Could she really live with the death of a child on her conscience? And what about that International Rescue man? How much worse off would the world be without him in it? How many more lives would be lost because he wasn’t there?

The match burned to her fingertips and she dropped it with a shout of surprise, stomping on it violently to put it out. Kicking off her heels, she pulled out another match, but she hesitated to light it this time. 

Was she really that kind of person? She’d yelled at Mr. Connelly for asking her to destroy these papers so he could save his company and keep himself out of jail, and here she was, about to do the exact same thing. Was she really as bad as he was? He’d been all too willing to trade two lives, two good lives, to save his own skin. Could she be…  _ that _ ?

Melanie decided right then and there that she couldn't.

Throwing the matchbox down on the counter, Melanie scooped the files out of the sink and crossed the hall into her office. She scanned all twenty-three pages into digital copies, and then she called International Rescue. 

“International Rescue. Please state your emergency.” This wasn’t the young man Melanie had expected to pick up. The hologram looked to be the lens of a camera, and the voice was that of a little girl.

“Um, I have important information regarding the incident in Trinity. It’s about mine shaft number A107.”

A muffled voice came over the receiver. “EOS, I’ll take this one.” The camera disappeared and the redheaded man from earlier today appeared in her place. 

“You’re Connelly’s secretary.” His tone was almost conversational, but his eyes held a hint of an accusation.

Melanie nodded, a bit ashamed of that fact. “He told me to destroy these.” She sent over the file and watched as he looked over the papers, his carefully built facade falling away and a look of intense relief filled his face. 

The small girl voice from before cut into the conversation. “John, I’m detecting seismic activity at Scott and Virgil’s location.”

John’s eyes widened. “I have to go.” He said. “Thanks for-”

“Wait!” The words tumbled out of her mouth without any thought. “I need a favor… please.”

John was looking at something outside of her view and started swiping at screens she couldn’t see. He glanced at her for a moment. “Quickly.”

She described the situation and her favor to John as quickly as she could, making it perfectly clear that what she was asking him to do was definitely illegal. But his expression never changed. And when she was finished explaining, there even seemed to be a hint of a smile in his eyes.

“Consider it done.” He said, and he blinked away.


	9. On The Other Side

Scott hit the ground hard, sharp stones stabbing into his side as he rolled, before hitting a wall and finally stopping. He curled in on himself, with his arms over his head to try and protect himself from the hailstorm of stones falling from the ceiling. It seemed like the entire cave was falling down on his head.

One of his brothers were shouting in his ear, and Scott shouted back. But he couldn’t be sure what the other was saying, or even what  _ he _ was saying. The avalanche roar of the cave-in buried every other sound beneath it, including his own voice.

But soon it stopped. Slowly, but deliberately, the roars quietened to rumbles and then to quivers, and it was silent except for the brother shouting in his ear.

“Scott! Virgil! Come in, are you receiving me down there?” It was John. 

Scott opened his mouth to respond but a cough rose from his chest, as if he’d breathed in a lungful of the dust swirling around outside his helmet. The cough was an annoyance to Scott, but to John it must have been a thing of great relief.

“Scott! Are you guys okay down there?”

Scott coughed twice more before he could get himself to answer. “I’m fine. Have you got eyes on Virgil? It’s too dusty in here, I can’t see him.” Scott said, wincing as he lifted himself to his knees, then to his feet, rubble rock falling off of his body. He could already feel the bruises forming. 

“I’m here.” Virgil’s voice came through the comms, tight and pained, and Scott’s heart sped up in his chest.

“Are you alright?” Scott asked urgently. He swung his head back and forth, trying to spot his brother through the dust, but to no avail.

Virgil’s breath hitched. “I think so. But I’m stuck. Can’t move.”

“John, where is he?”

“His signal’s coming from the next chamber, about 15 yards south-east of you.” 

Scott was about to tell John that cardinal directions didn’t mean much underground, but then blinked in surprise when a holographic map of the mine tunnels flashed to life above his arm, depicting both his and Virgil’s positions, and, yes, a compass. 

Scott allowed himself just a slight smile as he climbed back up the gravelly slope, following the directions. He had no idea how John had done it, but his little brother always came through. 

The smile fell off Scott’s face in an instant when he entered the chamber. The fallen stones had formed something akin to a hill, the rubble on the far side of the cave reaching all the way to the ceiling. Small stones still skipped down from the top, landing somewhere around Scott’s feet. And from somewhere in the middle of it all, Virgil’s light shone through the cracks of the debris, marking his location.

~ _ TB _ ~

Only when the last pebbles finally settled did Virgil finally dare to open his eyes, not that that did much of anything anyway. The dark was so thick that he could hardly tell there was a world outside his own helmet, except for the brief flashes of light that snuck through the cracks as Scott passed back and forth, moving stones. 

It reminded Virgil of a lighthouse, a thought that helped him focus on something other than how bad his arms were shaking and the alarming creaking sounds coming from his exosuit. Scott was coming to get him, he’d be here any second. He just had to hold out a little longer.

But minutes seemed forever to Virgil, and he grimaced as another spike of pain shot through his shoulders and down his back, gritting his teeth to try and stifle the cry of pain. Of course though, John heard it for what it was and his voice, calm and concerned, filtered in through Virgil’s helmet.

“Virgil? How’re you holding up down there?” 

“I feel like Atlas, John.” Virgil said through his teeth, sweat dripping down his face.

“Like you’re holding up the world? Yeah, I bet. Just hang in there, Virge, it won’t be too much longer.” Metal creaked again, and the sound of Virgil’s groans had John switching the subject to a lighter topic. “Hey, you wanna hear some good news?”

“Yeah? Like what?” In Virgil’s opinion, there wasn’t a lot besides “freedom” that could sound all that good when you were buried in a mine shaft, but a distraction probably wasn’t a bad idea.

“We found Gordon.”

Virgil had never changed his opinion so quickly. “You serious?” 

“Of course, and he’s not to far either. Once we get you out of there all you have to do is go pick him up.”

Virgil let out a sigh of relief, clouding up his visor for a moment. “That’s good. That’s really good.” He didn’t say anything more though, because a nightmare suddenly sprung up in his mind. 

He’d seen flood victims before. He’d  _ saved  _ flood victims before. But not all of them. His memory of the river flooded through his mind, wild and rapid, as dangerous as any earthquake or hurricane or volcano.

Virgil knew a killer when he saw one. His whole life he’d fought against them, and he hadn’t always won. There was a list in his mind, a list of faces, all the people he couldn’t save. His mother was at the top of that list, and he prayed his brother wasn’t about to become the bottom.

“Virgil?” John’s voice was sharp with worry. “Are you still there?” 

Virgil was snapped away from his thoughts and thrust back into the present, the weight on his back seeming heavier than before as he struggled against an instinct to hold his breath. “Here.”

John sighed, and his voice regained it’s usual calmness. “Don’t scare me like that, Virge, please.” Virgil remembered that John had no access to his suit telemetry while he and Scott were down in the mine, and had no doubt been imagining all sorts of horrible things in that stretch of silence. Sort of like Virgil had.

He mumbled an apology, speaking becoming more and more of a struggle as his muscles burned from the strain, the ache traveling down from his shoulders all the way through to his fingertips. But his worry wasn’t focused on himself. 

“John-” He managed out from between his teeth. “Gordon…” 

John took his meaning immediately, and shut him down just as quick. “Don’t even think it, Virgil. He’s going to be fine. That kid is the most stubborn, the most resilient person I’ve ever known. Whatever’s happened, he’ll get through it.”

Virgil willed John’s words to be true, hoped they were with all his heart, but he was cursed with knowledge. Virgil knew all the ten thousand things that could have happened. Everything that-

Virgil’s thoughts were forgotten in an instant when the rubble above him shifted and a timber beam dropped. His exosuit took most of the weight but none of the pain, and Virgil couldn’t stop himself from crying out as he screwed his eyes shut, willing his shuddering arms to hold steady.

Both of his brothers had heard him scream, and they were talking to him now; John telling him just a little bit longer, Scott saying that he was almost there, Virgil himself not really hearing any of it but catching the meanings from their tones.

The scraping sounds of Scott’s excavation grew louder and soon his lights flooded Virgil’s tiny, claustrophobic cave. Scott’s own frown deepened at the sight of his little brother’s pained grimace. “Just one more second, Virgil.”

Scott secured the rubble above his brother, using six jacks instead of the usual four. He wasn’t taking any chances of them failing this time. Virgil felt the weight lift off of him and it was all he could do not to just crumple to the ground right then and there. Scott helped him crawl out of the tunnel and take off his exo-suit before he finally collapsed onto his back with a deep groan.

Virgil closed his eyes and took a few seconds just to appreciate the fact that he wasn’t about to get crushed. He couldn’t wait to go home and give Grandma a hug, and sleep in his bed, and negate all the reasons on Gordon’s ridiculous list of why Thunderbird 4 was better than Thunderbird 2.

Virgil sighed.  _ Gordon. _ First things first, of course. Opening his eyes, Virgil saw Scott crouched down next to his head, a look of concern on his face. Gently, Scott helped him sit up, and Virgil smiled up at him, not really needing the help but accepting it all the same.

He waved a hand at Scott’s unasked question. “I’m alright. Really.” 

Scott didn’t smile back. “The way you winced when you moved your arm just now isn’t exactly convincing.”

True… But Virgil made sure the sheepishness and secret agreement didn’t show on his face, that wouldn’t help his argument. 

“Maybe not, but we don’t exactly have a lot of options.” Virgil said gesturing to their surroundings, taking care to hide the wince this time. 

Scott sighed and hauled Virgil to his feet. The protective older brother in him didn’t like it, but as a Field Commander he accepted the practicality of Virgil’s statement. Last he checked, there wasn't much in the way of medical treatment available in a run-down mine anyway. 

The two of them opted to leave the exo-suit for now. Scott didn’t think Virgil was in any condition to be wearing it, and even though Virgil had listed off a half a dozen examples of its usefulness, once again, he secretly agreed. 

John laid out the quickest route for them through the tunnels, and, believing they didn’t need the added distraction, promised to tell them how he’d acquired the maps in the first place after the rescue.

As they closed in on their destination, Scott and Virgil tried contacting Gordon. The first three attempts were met with silence, but the fourth time there was an answer. A small hesitant voice, and most definitely not Gordon.

“H-hello? Am I doing this right? Can you hear me?”

Scott nearly stopped in his tracks. “Persi?” To be perfectly honest, he’d doubted the young girl had survived, and the fact that she’d ended up with Gordon was practically a miracle. 

The girl’s voice brightened. “Yes! Are you Gordon’s brother? He said that you were coming.”

“Yes, I am. My name’s Scott. Where’s Gordon now, Persi?” He asked, gesturing to Virgil that they needed to hurry up. As good as it was that they’d found her, it was definitely a bad sign that she had answered and not Gordon.

Persi’s voice became panicked at Scott’s question. “He fainted. I think he’s hurt, but I don’t know what’s wrong. I can’t wake him up this time.”

Virgil’s head whipped around to catch Scott’s gaze at that remark. She couldn’t wake him up? What if he was… 

Scott’s eyes hardened, saying “no” just as clearly as if he had spoken it. Covering his microphone, Scott spoke in a low tone. “She’s old enough to know to check if he’s breathing. He’s only unconscious.”

Virgil nodded faintly and began questioning Persi over the comms, trying to determine Gordon’s condition. The young girl was startled by the new voice at first, but with her help, Virgil was able to learn about Gordon’s condition and her own.

Persi didn’t think she had any injuries beyond her broken arm and concussion, which, thankfully, wasn’t giving her any unbearable symptoms at the moment. But Gordon had been lethargic and confused for a while before passing out, and he’d been complaining of chest pain. Likely internal bleeding.

“I think he’s in shock.” Virgil whispered to Scott, who’s frown deepened to a grimace, but he didn’t waste a breath to respond. The two of them were sprinting through the tunnels now, Gordon’s beacon growing larger on the map as they approached his location.

Scott had handed the job of talking to Persi over to John, who was keeping her calm and helped her look out for any more signs of Gordon’s deterioration. Scott and Virgil half listened to the conversation with one ear, a skill picked up within all the years of radio communication. That was why they knew when something wasn’t quite right. The cadence in Persi’s voice changed, just a little bit. John had heard it too.

“Persi? Are you alright?”

“I-I thought I heard something. Was that Scott and Virgil? Are they here ?”

“It wasn’t us-” Scott began to say, but was cut off by a terrible  _ SCREEECH _ , Persi’s scream coupling with the sound and echoing through the comms and right into his ears.

Scott’s and Virgil’s blood ran cold, and it was a moment before John had calmed Persi down enough to get any information out of her. 

“T-there was a- there’s a  _ car _ up there, hanging from the ceiling. It's gonna fall!” She said, her voice shaky with sobs and fear. “And it’s- there’s all this water coming in now, it’s filling the whole place up!”

“Were two minutes out.” Scott said, tearing through the tunnels with Virgil hot on his heels. There was another  _ screeeech _ and more screams following it. Once again John comforted the girl, but his tone conveyed to Scott and Virgil that they needed to hurry up

The two made it there in a minute and forty seconds, stopping when they were face to face with a stone wall. Water seeped through the cracks and pooled into small puddles at their feet. And on the other side, maybe three steps through the stone, would be Gordon and Persi.


	10. Three Steps Through Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, I am so sorry this chapter is so late! I really did not mean to leave you hanging for so long right near the end of the story! I've been a kind of busy and it slipped my mind. Epilogue will be out tomorrow to make up for it! I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> ~Lou xx

They didn’t waste a moment. With chisels and power drills in hand, Scott and Virgil worked on tearing through the wall. It was rough, messy work, made all the harder by the wet conditions and the shrill screeches that echoed through wall shaking the cave even through the stone. 

John acted as a link between the rescuers and the victims, straddling the com lines so he could feed his brothers clear pieces of information at the same time as he tried to calm Persi’s sobs, for whom the added noises and shaking of Scott’s and Virgil’s excavation had done nothing to help. 

She sat on the stone the water rising from down below her and from above came the sound of another rope snapping, a sound she’d become very familiar with in the last fifteen minutes. Another of Gordon’s lines had failed and she covered her ears for what was coming next.

Another  _ SCREECH  _ sounded through the cave and rung painfully through her head. Each time it happened, fear rose up in her until felt like it had tied itself around her throat. Persi chocked on her sobs and bit her lip until it bled, tears streaming down her face. 

All at once the screeching stopped, and Persi dared to open her eyes when she heard John’s voice coming from Gordon’s radio, slightly muffled from Persi’s jacket draped over him. She pulled the jacket down from his chin and gently tapped the glowing symbol on Gordon’s chest, careful not to hurt him. 

Persi gasped in a normal sized breath before she spoke. “John? I-it didn’t fall yet, we’re okay.”

John sighed. “Okay, good. Scott and Virgil are almost through to you, alright? We’ll have you out in a second.”

Persi nodded slowly, before remembering John couldn’t see her. “Okay.”

“Okay? Alright. They made a drainage hole so the water should be going down now. Is it working?”

The water lapped across the surface of the large rock she and Gordon were perched on, and Persi had to take hold of his shoulders so he wouldn’t fall as he rocked back and forth with the current. Despite her best efforts, Persi’s voice still shook when she responded. “It- it’s slower… I think, but it’s not stopping, there’s too much coming in from the top…” More tears slipped down her face as she voiced the thought that had been pounding in her head since she woke up here. 

“What if they don’t make it in time?” The question came small and afraid. She wasn’t at all sure if John would tell her the truth, but she feared the answer all the same. She needn’t have asked at all though.

Before John could even answer, pieces of the wall fell away and the water began to drain away quickly. Bright flashlight beams shined in from the new entrance, causing Persi to shut her eyes as her headache flared up again. But even the pain couldn't stamp out her relief as two figures stepped into their cave, like angels, wearing the bright blue of International Rescue.

They had found them.  _ Finally _ . Only her worry for Gordon kept her from jumping down from that rock right then and there and hugging the both of them.

Virgil and Scott waded through draining water, moving against the current to get to the boulder Gordon and Persi sat on. The girl was muddy with tear streaks running through the grime, but the smile and awe on her face contradicted her circumstances.

“You  _ found  _ us.” 

Scott’s smile matched his young rescuee’s as he reached forward to fit a filtration mask over her mouth and nose. “Sure did, kiddo. It’s time to get you out of here. Can you stand?” At Persi’s nod, Scott lifted her off the rock and set her on the ground next to him, water skimming over the toes of her boots, his hands staying on her shoulders until her vertigo had waned. 

“Virge?” Scott asked, glancing from him to Gordon atop the rock.

“Yeah.” Virgil said, hopping up to take Persi’s place beside his brother and placing a mask similar to hers over Gordon’s face. It didn’t do anything to hide his pale waxy skin though, and Gordon shivered violently in Virgil’s hold.

Lifting Gordon’s wrist, Virgil checked his pulse, silently counting out the beats. Then shook his head, surprised. It was very slow. That didn’t make any sense, shock should’ve sent his pulse skyrocketing.

Gently, Virgil performed a quick check of Gordon’s ribs and located the fractures. The breaks were very, very slight. Not severe enough to cause internal bleeding. So why wasn’t he waking up? 

Virgil’s mind flicked through half a dozen possibilities, and tried for the most likely one first. He placed a hand on Gordon’s forehead, and the sensors in his gloves read his little brother’s temperature automatically. The number on the holoscreen confirmed his suspicions.

“It’s not shock is it?” Scott asked. He had been watching Virgil’s face, and knew him more than well enough to read through the carefully composed expression he wore when checking a patient.

Virgil shook his head. “Eighty-nine point seven.” He said, already beginning to remove Gordon’s sash so he could cut open the front of his suit. “He’s hypothermic.” 

Scott didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped up on the rock and crouched on Gordon’s other side, following Virgil’s lead and placing heat packs on Gordon’s chest and stomach. They moved without speaking, concentration smothering fear in the moment.

From up above them came the alarming creaks of straining ropes. Scott paused in his movements and turned his flashlight to the ceiling. Persi had been too afraid to look before, and she refused to look now. But she didn’t miss the grim look Scott gave to Virgil, and the faint shake of his head. 

It was then that the ceiling started to rumble again, and the sound of snapping ropes came one after another. Metal screamed against the sharp edges of stone and water began to rush into the cave even faster.

In one swift move, Scott jumped from the rock and dumped his equipment pack, landing next to Persi with a splash. And with a gentleness that belied his speed, Virgil carefully, oh so carefully, transferred Gordon into Scott’s arms. Not a moment sooner did Gordon’s head touch his shoulder did Scott turn on his heels and run right out they way he came.

Virgil leapt off the rock and snatched Persi off the ground at a run, sprinting hard after his brother. Everything happened in such quick succession that it was hard for Persi to process it all at once, and for a few moments all she could concentrate on was trying not to throw up all over her rescuer’s shoulder.

But when her head finally decided to catch up with the rest of her, she could hear the  _ screeches _ , farther away now, but somehow even scarier, like a monster chasing after them.

“We need a way out!” Scott shouted into the comms.

Persi’s ear was so close to Virgil’s helmet that she could hear when John responded, his words quick and fluid. “I’ve already got one. Keep heading straight.”

They followed his lead, taking a path that tilted uphill. But when the cave went silent, and the screeching stopped, they all knew the car had dropped. When it hit the ground the impact rattled the caves and cracked the walls, and the nearing sound of roaring water yanked recent memories to the front of Persi’s mind.

She squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to Virgil’s shoulder and trying to block them out. She focused on her breathing until all she knew was the dusty air and the jostling ground and Virgil’s hand on her head, trying to protect her from the falling debris.

Scott shouted over the noise. “John!”

And his brother understood immediately from just his name. “Take your first right, Scott.”

Scott turned sharply down the tunnel, quickly glancing behind him to make sure Virgil was still with him. The ground sloped up even more sharply now, and Scott did his best to keep his strides even and not jostle Gordon so much, but it was a vain attempt.

Scott knew how dangerous it was to transport Gordon this way, violent movements paired with hypothermic temperatures could lead to cardiac arrest. The kid should be on a stretcher, being moved slowly, but there wasn’t any time.

“Scott, wait!” Virgil’s hand grabbed onto his shoulder and yanked him back just as the ceiling crashed to the ground a few feet in front of him. Scott looked back at his brother, breathless, a silent thank you passing between them before they both ran back the way they came.

Scott was on the comms again. “The tunnel caved in, John.”

“Crap. Alright, I’m recalibrating. This’ll take a second.”

Neither Scott nor Virgil said they didn’t have a second, but it became abundantly clear when the flood waters turned the corner behind them, and they could feel the spray on their backs.

“John!” They shouted at once.

“Left! Go left!”

They hung a left and found themselves climbing a steep hill that ended in a small chamber when they reached the top.

Scott screened the space for a way out, but there was none. “John, it’s a dead end!”

“I know. Collapse the entrance.”

“ _ What? _ ” 

The flood roared forward, following them up the hill.

“Just do it!”

With one arm still around Persi, Virgil pulled a grapple gun from his belt and fired it at the stone above the entrance. He yanked the line back, hard, and the rock crumbled to the ground, sealing them in the cave.

Virgil dropped the grapple gun with a splash, his arms twinging painfully as he held Persi closer. Scott was next to him, breathing hard. Gordon was still limp in his arms, a sharp contrast to Persi, who was shuddering and sobbing.

Frigid water poured in through the cracks of Virgil’s barricade, already sloshing around their ankles and rising rapidly to their knees, then to their waists, and Scott struggled to keep Gordon out of the water.

“John?” His voice was quiet this time, a note of desperation creeping in.

John’s voice came back, quiet as well, but reassuring in its calmness. “That should buy you enough time. She’s almost to you guys, don’t worry.”

Virgil frowned, confused. “She? John, who-” But then he heard it. A different kind of roar, faint, but building up, and quite unlike the rushing water. A sound he could recognize anywhere. 

The ceiling shook, and Persi screamed, but instead of falling down, the slab of rock rose up, higher and higher. Until finally it revealed the green giant that had lifted it. 

Scott grinned as the fading sunlight hit his face. “EOS brought Two.”

The ground shuddered as Thunderbird Two released her payload a little ways away and returned to send down the rescue basket. A wireless connection with the Bird rebooted the sensors in their suits, and immediately with that came a shrill alarm, one Scott had already heard one too many times that day.

“Gordon’s in cardiac arrest!”

Those words seemed to burn through Virgil’s conscious so quickly he was only left with the adrenaline rush and his instincts. He shifted Persi to one arm and placed two fingers against Gordon’s neck, as if trying to read his pulse would jumpstart his heart.

Virgil shook his head. “We need equipment.”

There were too many empty seconds where all any of them could do was stand there and wait for the rescue basket to reach them. Too much time to think about how those moments were affecting Gordon, how much closer they all were to losing him simply because there was nothing they could do. And then the basket landed, and they sprung into action with the calculated efficiency of someone who’d lived this moment far too many times.

Virgil swung open the door and hopped in first, placing Persi down so he could receive Gordon and remove the heat packs while Scott jumped in behind him. Scott shut the gate with a clang and the basket rose a few feet to clear the rising water, but then remained stationary; it was too dangerous to attempt CPR while moving.

“Start the compressions.” Virgil told Scott while he moved to connect sensors and pulled off his helmet and Gordon’s mask to start the rescue breaths.

Scott frowned at this reversal of roles but didn’t hesitate. In truth, Virgil wasn’t sure his arms would’ve been able to keep up the rigorous rhythm, and this was far too important to mess up. 

“Anything?” Scott asked as he paused for Virgil to check Gordon’s vitals. 

“Rhythm is back, but he’s in V-fib. No oxygenation. Trying the defibrillators.” Virgil reached over and pulled the machine from the rescue basket’s emergency kit. Scott dried off Gordon’s chest and moved back to allow Virgil to place the pads. 

“Charging to 120… Clear!” 

The electricity jolted Gordon’s body, and he landed from the shock looking just as lifeless as before.

Virgil read the vitals, grimacing as he repositioned himself for the rescue breaths. “Still in V-fib. Continue the CPR.”

Persi watched from the corner, her back pressed against the grate, trying to give Scott and Virgil as much space as possible. She didn’t scream or cry this time, and for once she didn’t close her eyes or look away from what scared her. She stood stock still and silent, and stared it right in the face. Gordon’s face. 

Eye’s closed. Lips blue.

How was it possible that just a few hours ago he’d been making jokes and shadow puppets? How could she not have noticed how bad he’d been getting? It wasn’t fair. He was the only reason she was even alive right now, and now he was fighting to make his lungs breathe.

She watched Scott press down on Gordon’s chest over and over, trying to make his heart beat right. Watched Virgil breath for him, trying to make him strong enough to do it on his own. Watched them both try to coax life back into their brother, someone who’d been so alive he’d managed to bring her sunlight while inside a sinkhole. 

_ It wasn’t fair. _

“Anything, Virge?” Scott didn’t even try to hide the fear this time.

“Still in V-fib. Trying 120 again. Charging… Clear!”

His body jolted again. 

“Virgil?”

His voice was clipped. “No change. Compressions.”

Scott and Virgil started again, Persi had never seen two grown men look so scared. They were desperate. She heard Scott mummer under his breath, begging. “Come on, Gordon,  _ please _ .” 

Perhaps it was coincidence, or maybe Gordon was just waiting for someone to say the magic word, but all at once, he sucked in a gasping breath, his chest heaving as he breathed in deeply. The beeping rhythm of the heart monitor evened out, slow, but stable, and a bit of the color returned to Gordon’s face.

Virgil grinned, a slip of a laugh escaping his mouth as he went to replace the heat packs. Scott suddenly became far more big brother than field commander, and let his tears go. He pulled off his helmet, crying silently, and ran a hand through Gordon’s hair, working the mud out of the gold. 

Persi approached Gordon then, dropping to her knees next to him, she kissed his cheek, never minding the mud and the grime, and whispered “Thank you.” She gave hugs to Scott and Virgil, kissing their cheeks as well, too many emotions and too much fatigue swam through her to do anymore than that, but the gentle, heartfelt hugs they returned her with said that they more than understood.

Virgil tapped on his comms, opening a channel to John and Tracy Island, knowing that the whole family had been listening in. “He’s gonna be okay, guys.” 

And the reactions to the news, the cheers and the hugs and the sighs of relief, brought the most peculiar kind of ache to Virgil’s heart. Like it was breaking, but only because it was full to bursting. 

He pulled up a holo-display, a longing for home overtaking him, and began to retract the rescue basket. 

The four of them rose up out of the dark cave, into the twilight and open air. They were winched up into the belly of Thunderbird Two, tired and sore, but no longer scared, and finally safe.


	11. Epilogue- No Alarms

The heavy fist pounded on his office door again. “Connelly, this is the police, open up!”

The man in question sat rigid at his computer desk, the screen flashing as he wiped everything off the hard drive, then penned in a special code and even the hardware sparked and died. 

“Connelly, this is your last chance, or we’re breaking down the door!”

Connelly went for his filing cabinets next. He selected a few key documents and placed them in his briefcase, feeding the rest to the shredder. Melanie may have sold him out, but they wouldn’t get another thing on him. Ever.

There was a loud bang as one of the officers attempted to force in the door, but the wood only shuddered on its hinges, nothing more. Connelly barely spared it a glance. The oak would splinter before the lock gave out.

Connelly pulled on his suit jacket and did up the buttons. Taking his suitcase in hand, he pressed a button on the underside of his desk and a wall slid back to reveal an elevator. It had only two stops, his office at the top of the building, and the garage at the bottom. It was meant to be a contingency, but he never thought he’d have to use it.

Another bang at his door and Connelly stepped inside. With a frown on his face, he watched his office shrink through the opening between the closing doors. This wouldn’t be the last time he saw this place. Once he found a way to clear these charges he’d be back. He was sure of it.

It was twenty four floors and less than a minute later when Connelly exited the elevator. He walked briskly, eyes on the ground, and blended seamlessly with the scattered crowd of his employees. 

He had more than one vehicle parked down here, but the car he chose was black, unadorned, and inconspicuous. He drove calmly out of the garage, out of the parking lot, and off of his property without a hitch. He was entirely convinced he had gotten away clean when the sirens started screaming behind him.

Connelly slammed down hard on the gas and his car lurched forward, weaving in and out of the rush hour traffic. If he could just make it to his estate he could board his plane and be out of the country in a matter of hours. 

Connelly swore as the stop light ahead of him turned red and cars flooded the intersection, but he refused to stop and the cacophony of squealing brakes and car horns joined the red and blue of police sirens. 

A glance in his rearview revealed that two of the three cars on his tail had made it through the intersection behind him. In an effort to lose them, Connelly made a sharp turn onto a wooded back road, calculating that they were too far back to see where he’d gone. 

The sound of sirens fell behind him as the cops missed his turn, and Connelly relaxed in his seat, finally free of them. He had assets and locations overseas that had no ties to his company name, he could recollect himself and plan his next move. The police here would never be able to trace him.

Calmly, Connelly turned a corner, only to have his heart drop in his chest. Just ahead of him, two cars flashing red and blue were parked sideways across the road forming a barricade. Looking for a way out, Connelly checked his rearview and cursed. A car he hadn’t thought anything of, black and inconspicuous like his own vehicle, was now flashing police lights.

Frantic and cornered, Connelly swerved off the road down an overgrown bike path. Bushes and underbrush tore at the doors and undercarriage as he powered through them, wood snapping under his tires. 

A quick check behind him confirmed he had no tails. He’d lost them. He’d gotten away. He-

The sound of crunching metal surrounded him, and his seatbelt locked in place as he was thrown forward aginst it, the airbag exploding around him.

Connelly was unsure how long it took him to collect himself, but eventually shaky fingers managed to unclip his belt and grab his briefcase.

A tree. He’d crashed into a tree.

He staggered out of the car, disoriented and unsure of which direction he should go. But that choice was quickly taken from him when he noticed the officers pursuing him on foot. 

Away from them. That was the direction he should go.

It was a vain effort, and the police were on him in a moment. In a final act of desperation, Connelly swung his briefcase at the officer. She deftly caught his wrist and turned his arm behind his back, twisting his hand until he dropped his makeshift weapon. 

A swift movement and a click of metal and his hands were cuffed behind his back.

“You have the right to remain silent. If you give up this right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

He said nothing.

~ _ TB _ ~

Alan darted down the hall, dodging hospital staff and turning corners as quick as he could manage with a steaming coffee cup in his hand, a bag hanging from his arm, and a board game tucked under his elbow. 

He nudged open the door to his brother’s room and held up his stash with a grin. “Mission accomplished.” 

Gordon perked up from his bed, where John kept him company in a chair by his side. The second youngest was still gaunt and pale, with an IV attached to the back of one hand and a sensor clipped onto the finger of the other, evidence of his latest brush with death. But his smile was in place and his sense of humor intact, which was more than most would have in his position. 

Gordon took the bag from Alan and peeked inside. “This is perfect, she’ll love it.”

“It’s gonna be a little big though, the smallest one we had was in my size.”

“Eh, she’ll grow.” Gordon shrugged. “Now  _ please _ tell me you found a game or something at the gift shop. I am so sick of this puzzle and John’s totally winning right now.

John’s eyebrows came together as he placed another piece. “How do you win at a puzzle?”

“Dude, you put together half the thing and I connected like five pieces.” 

“He’s not wrong… but I got your back, Gords.” Alan said grinning, presenting the board game. “Now you at least stand a fighting chance.”

“Chess! Finally, something stimulating to do in here! Prepare to lose, Johnny boy.” Gordon declared, setting up his pieces. Out of all of the brothers, Gordon was the only one who ever really stood a chance against John. 

“We’ll see about that, little brother.” John smiled. He was happy that Gordon was in good spirits even though his body hadn’t yet fully recovered. 

Alan caught Scott turned around in his chair, smiling at the sight as well. None of them had been sure how being stuck underground for so long would affect Gordon emotionally, and they’d all been worried about that on top of his physical injuries. He seemed to be doing okay, but Alan knew that Scott was keeping a close eye on him regardless, that was just his way.

Coffee still in hand, Alan made his way over to the other side of the room where Scott was sitting at the side of another hospital bed. Virgil’s. 

The curtains were drawn on this side, and the lights turned down low for Virgil’s sake. The middle brother was passed out cold on the second bed, a concussion rendering him dead to the world. 

Coming to see Gordon and then learning that a second brother had also been hospitalized had done nothing for Alan’s blood pressure, but it was nothing compared to the scare Scott had received. He’d told them that the initial injury had likely resulted when Virgil had been caught in the cave-in, but the symptoms hadn’t started manifesting until he and Scott were at the hospital, waiting to hear about Gordon, and Virgil collapsed in the middle of the waiting room.

Alan didn’t even want to imagine what Scott had been thinking when the hospital staff wheeled Virgil away and he’d been left alone. Thankfully the concussion wasn’t severe, but the unpleasant symptoms and required observation had earned Virgil a bed next to Gordon’s.

Alan sat down in the chair next to Scott and passed him the coffee cup. “You know, if you’re tired you’d be better off getting  _ actual _ rest.” 

When Alan had arrived with John at the hospital late last night they’d been upset, though not surprised, to discover that Scott was wide awake, switching between his little brothers’ bedsides. John and Alan had managed to get Scott to lie down for a short cat nap when Gordon first woke up early in the morning, but not for longer than a few hours.

“I’m fine, Alan. And besides, you and John didn’t sleep much after your mission either.”

Alan couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “That wasn’t a  _ mission _ , Scott, we just went to pick up the stuff you and Virge left behind. And besides, we’re still running on Island Time.” 

In all honesty, Alan could’ve completed the “mission” on his own. It’d been a very straightforward task and Scott had already organized for SAR to help with the retrieval. But the smother hen didn’t feel comfortable sending Alan in without a brother backing him up, so John offered to come down and help Alan before Scott took it upon himself to trek back into the mine.

Scott shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his coffee. “It’s fine, Alan. The doctors said the guys can be discharged by this evening and we’ll be back on Tracy Island by bedtime. It all works out.”

“Except for the fact that you miss out on almost an entire night’s rest.” John said from the other side of the room. “Check, Gordon.”

Gordon moved a piece across the board and swiped one of John’s. “Ha! Saw that coming. Take  _ that _ , John.”

A quiet beeping noise sounded in the room, and Scott couldn’t quite suppress his shivers as he was reminded of flatlining heart monitors. John tapped a button on his watch and the beeping stopped, replaced by a hologram. 

“EOS?” John asked. “Is something wrong?” EOS was monitoring rescue communications, rerouting them to local emergency channels and, in extreme cases, the GDF. But John had given her instructions to alert them if an intervention by IR was absolutely necessary.

EOS’s lights flashed green however, quickly disproving that theory. “Not at all, John. In fact, I think you’ll enjoy this development.”

Suddenly, EOS’s trademark loaded itself onto the hospital television as she hacked into the electronics. The screen switched itself over to a local news channel and a reporter appeared standing in front of the Trinity police station. The brothers skimmed the headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen and Alan’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious? They  _ caught  _ him?”

“Shh,” Gordon hushed him. “EOS, turn it up.”

_ “The police have finally apprehended Jacob Connelly after he evaded arrest this afternoon, which resulted in an hour long car chase. The business tycoon has had unproven allegations of money laundering and business fraud pending against him for months with very little action being taken.” _

Connelly was well known in the business industry for being virtually untouchable. Even with all of the charges against him, he still managed to slip through the worst of it. His money had a way of making evidence disappear and witnesses change their tune. 

_ “However,” _ The reporter continued from the TV.  _ “Connelly’s newest charge, the threatening of a former employee, has something the others do not. Tangible evidence. A security tape submitted to the authorities by an anonymous source reveals the entire conversation.” _

Scott turned around in his seat, raising an eyebrow. “An ‘anonymous source’, John?”

John shrugged, but he wore a subtle smile, a glint alive in his eye. “I wanted to make sure the charges stuck this time. And besides, it’s a favor for Melanie, to prove she’s innocent in case Connelly tries to pin the charges on her.”

Scott nodded approvingly. International Rescue was not in any way a law enforcement agency, but there was no way he could condone letting Melanie risk her freedom to save his brother’s life and then let her get put away for it. Scott was thinking about offering her a position at Tracy Industries as well. After everything she’d done it seemed like the least he could do. 

Alan grinned upon hearing his brother’s role in obtaining the evidence. “That’s almost espionage, John. You’re practically a spy!”

Gordon’s eyes lit up, taking Alan’s idea and running with it. “All you need is like a cool spy suit, y’know to sell the look?”

Alan nodded in agreement. “Yeah, with secret lasers and gadgets and stuff! You should go with white though, black is  _ so _ overdone.” 

“Great idea! You think we could get Brains to make it?”

“Are you kidding? He would  _ love _ this. And I know what we can call him.” Alan paused for dramatic effect. “00 _ 5, John Bond _ .”

Gordon sputtered and had to stop himself from laughing so he wouldn’t aggravate his ribs, but his other brothers had no such restrictions and their laughter filled the room. John dropped his forehead into his palm. “Please don’t.”

A deep, drowsy voice broke through the laughter. “Alan, I have a concussion… and even I know that was bad.”

Four pairs of eyes turned to Virgil’s face, a smile grew on each of their faces when they saw him looking back at them.

“Virgil, you’re awake.” Alan said, careful to keep his voice down. The first time Virgil had woken up he’d been very lethargic, and had only mumbled a bit and retched up his guts before falling back asleep again. This was already an improvement. 

“How’re you feeling, Virge?” Scott asked, taking his brother’s hand carefully. 

Virgil blinked twice. “Fuzzy.” The word came slowly, as if he was remembering how to work his tongue. “But better than before.”

“Better is better.” Alan said smiling.

“Gordon, stay in bed.” John’s firm voice came from across the room. The second eldest was gently holding his little brother in place.

“But I wanna see him too.” Gordon’s words were less of a protest and more of a whine, but a whine he backed up by struggling against John’s hands. He and Virgil had never been awake at the same time before, and it was a very rare thing for Gordon to be bedridden without having Virgil watching over him… He’d missed him.

Scott stood up. “Gordon, you have broken ribs.”

“Yeah, but my legs still work.” 

“And you have an IV in your hand.” John reminded him.

“Those things have wheels for a reason.”

“Hey, hold up… I’ll come to him.” 

Scott frowned at Virgil, his big brother disapproval gaze now turned on him. “You need to stay in bed too.”

Virgil didn’t say anything, just pinned him with a look that said he was being a hypocrite. Even in Virgil’s foggy state, he could tell that Scott was dead tired, he was the one who should be resting.

Scott sighed and his eyes flickered away from Virgil’s. He ran a hand through his hair. “Fine.”

“Dude, you have  _ got _ to tell me how you do that.” Alan said when Scott relented. Such a talent could be useful to the youngest Tracy.

The brothers darkened Gordon’s side of the room for Virgil, and Scott hooked his arm around his brother’s waist for the short walk over. Virgil was a little wobbly, and a little green, but he managed to settle himself in the chair at Gordon’s bedside without throwing up.

Virgil reached out his arms to his little brother and Gordon fell into them contentedly. 

“Thanks for coming to get me.” The words were whispered.

Virgil held him a little closer. “Always.” Six little letters holding an age-old promise. “How’re you feeling, Gords?”

“Better.”

“Better is better.” Virgil said, repeating Alan’s words as he and Gordon pulled apart.

“What about you?” Gordon asked, his eyes on Virgil’s arms and wrists. They were wrapped in compression bandages, and a strip of KT tape peeked out of the back of his collar and extended down the back of his neck and across his shoulders. He wouldn’t be painting or playing piano for a while yet.

“Gordon.” Virgil smiled gently, tilting his head to catch Gordon’s gaze again. “It’s nothing.” Gordon smiled back, not at all in agreement, but the simple words and gestures were just so plain Virgil he couldn’t help himself.

“Now,” Their artist brother said, suddenly changing the subject. “About how many times have you guys told Scott to go to sleep?” 

Scott blinked, taken aback by the 180 the conversation had just taken. Alan crossed his arms with a pointed look at his oldest brother. “Oh, well, I’d say only about  _ half a million times _ .” 

John shook his head. “The thing is he’s not even exaggerating.” 

“Yes, he is.” Scott mumbled under his breath.

Virgil sighed. It was times like these he wished the Tracy genes weren’t  _ quite _ so stubborn. “Scott, I love you, but you like an actual zombie.”

“That’s what I told him!” Gordon said, throwing his arm up… then instantly regretting it. “Ow. Ow.  _ Ow, ow, ow, ow. _ ”

Immediately he had four brothers hovering over him, asking if he was alright in almost perfect unison.

“I’m fine.” He said, but his voice was about an octave too high. He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.” Too low this time. 

“Do you need us to call the doctor?” John asked, concern in his eyes.

“No, no. I’m fine.” Third time’s the charm. “Really. No need for a doctor.” Gordon’s had enough poking and prodding to last him a lifetime.

His brothers seemed to be at least halfway convinced, and began to settle down again when a fist knocked lightly on the door. Alice, one of the nurses who’d been taking care of them, entered the room and held the door open wide. “I heard you guys were expecting company.”

A little girl was wheeled into the room by her father, and Gordon grinned, any thought of the pain wiped away firmly and completely. “Persi.” 

Gordon couldn't remember seeing her since long before they left the cave, and even though his brothers had reassured him over and over that she had made it out okay he’d been aching to see her and confirm it for himself. 

The girl was still pale, and the splint he’d improvised for her had been replaced with a cast. Her eyes held that same bleary look that Virgil’s did from the combination of pain meds and a concussion, but there was no fear in them. This was the first time Gordon had seen her unafraid.

Persi grinned up at him, jumping out of her wheelchair and scrambling onto his bed before anyone could help her up. The two pulled each other close in a gentle hug, each mindful of the others injuries, a warm reassurance washing over both of them that the other was safe.

“I’m really happy you’re okay.” Persi said when they pulled away, as if she’d believed he might not be.

Gordon smiled fondly at her. “You too, kiddo.” 

Along with Persi had come her parents and brother Nico, and there was another round of hugs, handshakes, and heartfelt thank yous before everyone settled down again. 

“Here look,” Gordon said, reaching over to his side table to retrieve the bag Alan had brought in earlier. “Got you a present!”

Persi’s eyes lit up at the sight of the sight of the bag, but she didn’t reach out to take it. “Oh, Gordon, I don’t need a present.”

“Everybody needs presents,” Gordon countered. “Besides, it’s just something small I wanted you to have, sort of like a thank you gift.”

The little girl’s eyes went wide. “Thank  _ me? _ ”

Gordon tilted his head towards his brothers. “According to what I’ve heard you’ve been a bit of a hero.”

Persi opened her mouth but couldn’t speak.  _ Gordon _ thought  _ she _ was a hero? She looked up at her parents, wondering what she should do, and her mother, seeing the earnest expression on Gordon’s face, nodded in agreement.

So Persi thanked him and opened the bag, reaching in and pulling out a bright blue IR jacket like the one she’d worn yesterday. Only this one had her name embroidered on the front. Scott helped her slip it on and roll up the sleeves, and Persi traced her fingers over the stitching. “But  _ how? _ ”

“Well, we have a ton of the jackets.” John said. “But, Alice did the sewing.”

The nurse had been standing near the door, smiling as she watched Gordon present the gift, and she startled slightly at having all the attention in the room suddenly turned on her. “It was nothing. I’m sure you would have figured something out if you didn’t think to ask me.” 

“No, we wouldn’t have.” Alan said. “Embroidery is  _ way _ out of our league.” 

“Well, in that case it was my pleasure, and my job.”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow. “To sew jackets?”

“To help my patients.” She said. “And speaking of which…” Alice produced a yogurt cup and plastic spoon and handed both to Virgil. 

Virgil looked down at the food distastefully. He should’ve stayed silent. “Do I have to?” 

“You do if you want to get discharged this evening.”

Persi grimaced in sympathy. “She wouldn’t let me out of bed until I ate something either.”

Virgil sighed, but peeled open the yogurt cup and began eating without another complaint.

They visited together for the better part of an hour, with Alice drifting in and out to bring meals and check vitals and things, until their various injuries got the better of Persi, Virgil, and Gordon and Alice sent them all back to bed for naps and another round of meds before the Tracy’s took their leave in the evening.

They were discharged as the sky turned orange, and Virgil smiled as he entered Thunderbird 2. He’d been longing for home since the moment he was conscious enough to realize he was in a hospital, and it was good to be back in the cockpit, even if Alan would be the one in the pilot’s seat this time around. 

Soon enough, his little brother was counting down their launch and firing VTOL. He turned Two in the direction of home and she streaked across the sky, flying opposite the setting sun.

~ _ TB _ ~

When Virgil got home, the first thing he did was hug Grandma, who’d stayed up late waiting for her boys, then he ate (only a little, Scott had forced him), and collapsed in his bed. It was so nice being in his own bed.

It was late at night the next time Virgil woke, his arms and head giving him grief. He turned over stubbornly and closed his eyes. He didn’t like the hazy feeling the pain meds gave him, and he didn’t want to have to wake his brothers and Grandma to give them to him anyway. So he’d resolved himself to laying there, willfully obstinate and ignoring the pain, when he heard a soft string of footsteps from down the hallway.

Virgil frowned, recognizing who it was. “Scott?”

Sure enough, Virgil’s brother stuck his head in, clad in pajamas but wide awake, concern on his face. “Virge? Are you alright? Do you need medicine?”

Virgil sat up, ignoring the questioning. “Why are you still awake?”

Scott stepped into the room, searched Virgil’s face, and sighed. “You do need medicine.”

Virgil watched Scott move about his room, measuring the dosage and filling the water glass, and he slumped back into his pillows, exasperated. “Scott, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Ignore me.”

“You’re ignoring you, not me.” Scott said, taking a seat on the edge of Virgil’s bed and offering the pills. “Why don’t you ever say when you’re in pain?”

Virgil glanced down at the medicine then back at Scott’s face. “Probably the same reason you’re deflecting my questions.”

“Virgil, please, I’m fine. Take your medicine.”

“First tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong, why do think something’s wrong?”

Virgil held Scott’s gaze, the two of them arguing silently. They could’ve been there the rest of the night, but Virgil narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, and Scott watched him flinch. 

He blew out a breath, breaking his gaze for a moment before meeting his brother’s eyes again. “This is practically extortion, you know.”

That got a small smile from Virgil. “Not my fault you’re so stubborn.” 

“Take your meds, then we’ll talk.” Scott said. Virgil wasn’t happy about the compromise, it didn’t take much time for the drugs to start working, and then he was three sheets to the wind. But he knew Scott wasn’t likely to compromise further. Brothers first, that’s how he worked. 

Virgil downed the meds and scooted over to make more room for Scott; they sat shoulder to shoulder in the dark. Silence stretched for a few minutes as Scott collected his thoughts, all the things he didn’t want to burden anyone with, least of all his injured little brother.

“What’s going on, Scotty?” Virgil’s voice was gentle, every trace of teasing gone from his tone.

Scott leaned his head back to rest on Virgil’s headboard, eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling as he fought the pull of the memories trying to sweep him back. “I can’t get that alarm out of my head, Virge… When Gordon-” The scentence broke off and Scott swallowed thickly. “I thought we lost him.”

“I did too.” Virgil admitted, his words hardly more than a breath of air. “But he’s here. He’s right down the hall.”

“I know. I checked in on him too, just to reassure myself, but I keep seeing him…” Seeing him… 

“Scott.”

“And then it’s  _ you _ . You collapsed and I thought-” Scott shook his head, his eyes wide. “I don’t know what I thought, I didn’t know what to think.” It’d been one brother, then just as suddenly two, and Scott had been alone.

Virgil took his brother’s shoulders, pulling him close so their foreheads met. “Scotty, take a breath.”

He breathed in, but it was shaky. So he took another breath. And another. Until he could fill his lungs without feeling like they were collapsing in his chest.

“Better?”

“Better.”

“I’m right ‘ere, Scotty”

Virgil’s breath wafted across Scott’s face, reminding him that this was true. “I know.”

The two pulled away, and Virgil’s posture slumped a bit, his eyes a little unfocused as the medication began to take effect. “It’s nightmares isn’ it? S’why you can’t sleep?”

Scott nodded, a slight smile tracing his lips despite the topic. How was his brother so perceptive even through the haze of painkillers? 

“I us’d to get ni’mares too, ‘member? I liked the thun’er but I was ‘fraid of the dark.”

Scott frowned, trying to understand what his brother was talking about. Then a memory resurfaced, one he hadn’t thought about in a long time. Scott was maybe ten years old, which made Virgil about six. His little brother had always liked thunderstorms, but he could never sleep if the power went out.

Virgil blinked heavily. “You us’d t’talk t’me ‘n tell me stories ‘till I coul’n’t keep m’eyes op’n”

Scott smiled fondly at Vigil’s rambling and began to set his pillows right. “Virge, I think it’s time to go to sleep.”

“You us’d to lemme sleep in y’ur bed, ‘member?”

“Yeah, I remember, Virgil.” Scott pulled the covers back and helped his brother lie down.

“You can sleep in’ere f’you want. T’elp with y’ur ni’mares…” The last words were drowsy mumbles, and Virgil was out as soon as Scott pulled the blankets up over his shoulder.

Scott gazed down at him. Had Virgil really meant the offer? He probably didn’t know what he was saying, he definitely wouldn’t remember it in the morning. And besides, Scott hadn’t climbed into someone else’s bed since before his mother died. He should just head back to his room.

But something told Scott that Virgil wouldn’t mind waking up next to him, even if he didn’t remember issuing the invitation. And suddenly it seemed like the perfect idea, who better than Virgil, the teddy bear of the Tracy family, to keep his nightmares at bay?

So Scott slipped under the covers next to his brother, taking comfort in the sound of his gentle breaths.

Scott closed his eyes. There were no alarms ringing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and enjoying this story, it's been absolutely wonderful reading the comments, watching the kudos and hits add up. This is the first, and as of now only, work of this caliber I've ever done and watching how you've received it honestly has me grinning like an idiot all week. You all are a wonderful community and happy to be a part of and contribute to it.
> 
> All the love,  
> ~Lou xx


End file.
